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CAMP-FIRES IN THE 
CANADIAN ROCKIES 



BOOKS BY WILLIAM T. HORNADAY 
PUBLISHED BT CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



THE AMERICAN NATURAL HISTORY. Net, 
$3-5° 

TWO YEARS IN THE JUNGLE. $2.50 

TAXIDERMY AND ZOOLOGICAL COLLECT- 
ING. Net, $2.50 




Copyright, 1005, by John M. Phillips. 

The Finest Mountain Goat Picture 

Taken at eight feet. 



CAMP-FIRES IN THE 
CANADIAN ROCKIES 



BY 



WILLIAM T. HORNADAY, Sc.D. 

DIRECTOR OF THE NEW YORK ZOOLOGICAL PARK 
AUTHOR OF "THE AMERICAN NATURAL HISTORY" 



ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

JOHN M. PHILLIPS 

PENNSYLVANIA STATE GAME COMMISSIONER 



WITH SEVENTY ILLUSTRATIONS AND TWO MAPS 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1906 






OCT 6 1906 



Copyright, 1906, by 
WILLIAM T. HORNADAY 



Published, October, 1906 




TROW DIRECTORY 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY 

NEW YORK 



c/U 



jV 



PREFACE 

My friends are called upon to bear witness that of 
the various hunting trips I have enjoyed in the late 
lamented Wild West, I have written of one only. That 
was twenty years ago. For so large a sum of outdoor 
enjoyment which might have been set forth in print, my 
sight drafts upon the reading public have been by no 
means extravagant. 

Even up to the end of our hunt in British Columbia, 
I had no thought of bookmaking; but now that the hunt 
is over, and we are out of those wonderful mountains, a 
printed record seems worth while. The land looms up 
so grandly, its wild creatures seem so interesting, and 
Mr. Phillips's pictures so fine, it would seem churlish to 
refuse the labor that will place them before those who 
care to enjoy them. Moreover, detailed information of 
nature as it exists to-day on the summits of the Colum- 
bian Rockies is not so outrageously abundant that this 
volume is likely to be crowded off the shelf by other 
books on that subject. 

One month ago to-day we scrambled out of the 
mountains of southeastern British Columbia, tired, torn, 
and travel-stained, but with the wheels of Time turned 
back about five years. Three months ago literary com- 



vi PREFACE 

position was unendurable nerve torture. To-night, how- 
ever, with the roar of the mountain torrents, the whistle 
of the wind on the passes, and the tinkle of the horse- 
bell in my ears, I begin the writing of these pages as 
cheerfully as if I never had known an official care. I 
am disposed to tell of the wonders of that mountain land, 
where we found health and vigor while climbing after 
grand game. We feel like saying to the tired business 
man, the overworked professional man, and the sleepless 
newspaper man, — go, thou, and do likewise! 

This is merely a -story of recreations with big game, 
with a few notes on nature. Next to the necessity of a 
strenuous trip into mountain wilds, my chief object was 
to get into the home of the mountain goat, and learn 
at first hand something of the strange personality of that 
remarkable animal. The most valuable result of the 
trip, however, is Mr. Phillips's wonderful photographs 
of a live mountain goat, secured at risks to life and limb 
that were really unjustifiable. 

Until our mountain diversion was half over, I had 
not realized that so much of living interest in nature, 
of good luck in hunting, of rare success in photography, 
and unalloyed delight in camp life could be packed into 
the limits of one vacation hunting trip; but that expe- 
rience established a new record. At first I could not 
understand how Mr. Phillips could find interest in going 
to the same region for five trips in succession; but now 
I know. It is the mystic Spell of the Mountains! 

We dread the day of the ranch, the road, the railway, 
and the coal-mine, — anywhere near the Elk and the Bull 



PREFACE vii 

Rivers. We left behind us all those " improvements " 
on the face of nature, and went far beyond the last tin 
can of civilization. For many miles our men had to 
chop out a trail for the pack-train before we could get 
on. Some of our travel was laborious, and some of it 
dangerous ; but there was no accident. In every respect 
both the outfit and the trip were ideal. 

No doubt all persons who are interested in the 
photographing of wild animals in their haunts will 
desire to know how Mr. Phillips obtained the moun- 
tain goat photographs which are reproduced in this 
volume. They were made with a Hawk-Eye Stereo 
Camera, No. i. Mr. Phillips never has used a tele- 
photo lens. His series of photographs of the moun- 
tain goat represent what I believe to be the most dar- 
ing, and also the most successful, feat in big-game 
photography ever accomplished. 

W. T. H. 

New York, November i, 1905. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

The Pilgrimage to Goatland i 

The Delectable Mountains — Over the Great Northern — The Sweet- 
Grass Hills — Into the Rockies — The Fernie Game- Protectors — Brit- 
ish Columbia Game-Laws too Liberal. 



CHAPTER II 

In the Valley of Elk River 10 

Fernie and Michel — Mr. Crahan and his Hotel — Return of Professor H. 
F. Osborn and his Family — The Members of our Outfit — The First 
Wild Animal — Jack Pine Timber — Sheep Mountain — "My Moun- 
tain," for a Month — A Marten Trap — Fool- Hens. 



CHAPTER III 
A Golden Day on Fording River 24 

A Bath in the Sulphur Spring — A Ride to Fording River — Cut-Throat 
Trout galore — Josephine Falls — Evening over the Elk Valley. 



CHAPTER IV 

Travel in the Mountains 35 

" House-Roof Mountains " — Making Up Packs — When Charlie Threw 
Down his Pack — Valley Thoroughfares — Green Timber — Down 
Timber — Trail-Cutting — Berries of the Mountains. 



x CONTENTS 



CHAPTER V 

PAGE 

The Mountain Goat at Home 46 

Our Welcome to Goatland — Three Goats Stampede through our Camp — 
A Wild Spot — Mountain Color on a Gray Day — An Early-Morning 
Caller — Goats at Rest — How Goats Climb — Stalking Two Big 
Billies — Two Goats Killed — Measurements and Weight. 

CHAPTER VI 

On Bird Mountain : Photographing Mountain 

Sheep 65 

A Mountain Cyclorama — The Continental Divide — Phillips Peak — 
A Land Unmapped and Unmeasured — Mountain Altitudes along Elk 
River — Statement by Geologist McEvoy — Mountain Sheep Afoot — 
Photographing Two Sheep on the Goat Rocks — Sheep and Goats Seen 
at the Same Moment. 

CHAPTER VII 
A Great Day with Goats 77 

Goats Far Up — The Climb, and its Difficulties — An Elusive Pair — Ten 
Big Billies at Hand — Observations of an Hour — Four Goats Killed, 
and Utilized — The Tallest Goat, and the Heaviest — Rolling Car- 
casses — Down Avalanche Creek to a Beautiful Camp. 

CHAPTER VIII 

The Mountain Goat as we Saw Him 92 

A Mountain Goat's Paradise — General Character of the Animal — Its 
Place in Nature — Not an " Antelope" — Description — Distribution — 
Food — Sleeping- Places — Accidents in Snow-Slides — Swimming — 
Stupid or Not Stupid — Courage — A Philosophic Animal — Affection 
— Fighting Powers — A Goat Kills a Grizzly — Bear-Shy Goats — 
The Tragedy of the Self-Trapped Goats. 

CHAPTER IX 

Timber- Line and Summit 127 

One-Eyed Men in the Mountains — A Mountain Savant — A Climb in 
False Notch — Foot and Nerve Exhaustion — A Daring Goat — Ex- 
periments — The Component Parts of Mountain-Sides — Temperature 
Record of a Climber — A Great Basin and a Bull Elk — A Tree 
Scarred by a Mountain Ram. 



CONTENTS xi 



CHAPTER X 

PAGE 

Alone on a Mountain 145 

Getting Next to Nature — Waterfall Notch — The Pika at Home — 
Ground-Squirrels and Grizzly Bears — Temptation Goats — Variations 
between Summits — Fool-Hens and Ptarmigan — Dwarf Spruces — Bull 
River — Mule-Deer Grounds — Berries of the Mountains — Charlie 
Smith Finds Grizzly-Bear Signs. 

CHAPTER XI 
My Grizzly Bear-Day 159 

Rubbing-Trees of Bears — Fresh Grizzly " Signs " Reported — A Trip to 
the Goat Remains — A Silver-Tip at Work — Her Death — The 
Autopsy — Amateur Photography and its Results — The Bear's Cache 
— Wolverines Observed — A Jollification in Camp. 

CHAPTER XII 
Notes on the Grizzly Bear 172 

Rarity of the Grizzly in the United States — Seasons — The Grizzly 
Bear's Calendar — Solitary Habits — Food of Grizzlies — A Carrion 
Feeder — Weight of Grizzlies — "Grizzly" or "Silver- Tip" — Re- 
strictions in Killing. 

CHAPTER XIII 

Photographing a Mountain Goat at Six Feet . 181 

Wild-Animal Photography — A Subject on the Crags — At the Head of 
the Grand Slide — The Billy Goat at Bay — Exposures at Six Feet — 
The Glaring Eyes of the Camera Stops a Charge — At Last the 
Subject Stands Calmly and Looks Pleasant — In Peril from a " Dead " 
Knee — A Sleepless Night from the Perils of the Day. 

CHAPTER XIV 
A Rainy Day in Camp 199 

The Finest of all Camps — A Record-Breaking Cook — Fearful Slaughter 
of Comestibles — Drying Meat from Big Game — A Good Method 
Described — The Norboe Brothers — Trapping on Bull River — The 
Trappers' Bill of Fare — Mack Norboe' s Biggest Bear — The Big Bear 
that Got Away. 



xii CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XV 

PAGE 

Camp-Fire Tales 212 

Charlie Smith's Story — An Outlaw in Camp — A Silent Death Sentence 
— The Pursuers of Tom Savage Find Him — His Fate — John Norboe 
Introduces Old John Campbell — Trying to be Chased by a Grizzly — 
The Bear that Fell into the Fire. 

CHAPTER XVI 

More Camp-Fire Yarns 221 

The Charge of" The Duchess — The Death of the Duke of Wellington — 
The Horror of the Rocks — The Sheep that Couldn't be Caught- — 
The Matches that Wouldn't Light. 



CHAPTER XVII 

A Great Mountain Sheep Hunt 



*3S 



Variations in Sheep Hunting — Artistic Value of Scenery in Hunting — John 
Norboe' s Peril — Camp Necessity — Remarkable Goat Licks — Sheep 
Signs — A Very Long Stalk — Attack in a Wind Storm — Misses and 
Hits — Mack Norboe' s " Bungers " — Three Dead Rams — A Night 
of Terror. 

CHAPTER XVIII 

Mountain Sheep Notes 250 

The Culminating Point or a Species — Measurements of Record Heads — 
Range of the Big-Horn— The White Sheep— The Black Sheep— 
Fannin's Sheep — Fighting Noses of our Specimens — Reinforcement 
of the Neck — Captain Radcliffe's Opinion About Broken Tips — 
Measurements of our Sheep — Comparative Dimensions of Sheep, 
Goat and Mule Deer — Comparison of Sheep and Goat — Enemies 
of Mountain Sheep — Impending Extinction in British Columbia. 

CHAPTER XIX 

A Panoramic Grizzly-Bear Hunt 265 

Luck as a Factor in Bear Hunting — An Exhausting Climb — A Silver- Tip 
Sighted — Mr. Phillips and Mack Run for it — A Summit Stroll Be- 
tween the Acts — The Ball Opens — A Long Chase — Snap-Shots 
Only, and at Long Range — A Good Long Shot — Mack's Fusillades 
— A Foot-Shot Bear, and Chaff for the Victors. 



CONTENTS xiii 

CHAPTER XX 

PAGE 

Avalanche and Slide-Rock 280 

The "Snow-Slide" — An Ideal Mountain Section — Creek Buried Under 
Slide-Rock — Timber Wrecked by Avalanche— -Slides and Wild Ani- 
mals — How Slides Originate — Twelve Slides in One Mile — Slide- 
Rock — How Mountain Peaks Change to Steep Slopes — An Object 
Lesson in False Notch. 

CHAPTER XXI 

The Small Neighbors of the Big Game .... 293 

Animal Life on the Summits — The Little Chief "Hare" — A Four- 
Footed Haymaker — The Fate of " Little Mike " — The Columbia 
River Ground-Squirrel — A Tiny Chipmunk — A Plethoric Ground- 
Squirrel — The Yellow-Haired Porcupine — The Pine Squirrel — The 
Pack- Rat — The Hoary Marmot — The Wolverine — The Trappers' 
Evil Genius — Species of Depredations — Charlie Smith Gets Square 
with an Enemy — A Wolverine Caught Alive. 

CHAPTER XXII 

Small Neighbors of the Big Game (Continued) .312 

The Pine Marten — The Coyote — Mule Deer — Winter Birds Only — 
Franklin Grouse, or "Fool-Hen" — White-Tailed Ptarmigan — 
Harlequin Duck- — Water Ouzel — Eagles and Hawks — Clark's Nut- 
cracker — Canada Jay and Magpie. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

Down Avalanche Creek, and Out 321 

Cutting our Way Out — A Side Trip to High Summits — Discovery of 
Lake Josephine — A Camp for Three — A Lofty Hunting Ground 
—My Luck Against the Storm-Clouds — A Body-Racking Descent 
— The Struggle for a Trail Out — Mr. Phillips and I Go Out on 
Foot — The Jack Pine, Down and Up — Running Logs Over Down 
Timber — Out at Last. 



xiv CONTENTS 



CHAPTER XXIV 

PAGE 

Captive Mountain Goats 233 

Record of Captive Goats Exhibited — Perilous Capture by Smith and 
Norboe — An Easy Capture — A Game Warden in Trouble — First 
Specimens for New York — Others from Fort Steele — Shipping Ani- 
mals by Express — The Author Becomes Travelling Companion for 
Five Goat Kids — Traits in Captivity — A Glance Backward. 

Index 345 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Except when otherwise noted, all these illustrations are from photographs 
made by John M. Phillips, and have been reproduced without the slightest al- 
teration or retouching. 

The Finest Mountain Goat Picture Frontispiece 

FACING 

Michel, British Columbia, Looking West. page 

Photograph by Thomas Crahan 12 

Elk River 16 

Hornaday Mountain 20 

Trout Fishing at Josephine Falls 28 

The Pack-Train Leaving Sulphur Spring Camp . . . . . 32- 

Fording Elk River 38 

The Valley of Goat Creek 44 

Goats Running through our Camp 48 

The Size of a Mountain Goat 52 

Weighing Mountain Goat No. 1 by Sections 58 

"The Moment of Triumph," — caught unawares 62 

Phillips Peak, from Bird Mountain 68 

A Female Sooty Grouse 70 

Female Ptarmigan, in Summer Plumage 70 

Young Mountain Sheep Ram 74 

The Sky Pasture of the Thirteen " Billy " Goats .... 82 

Taking the First Shot 82 

A Mountain Goat at Home 86 

Front Foot of a Mountain Goat. Drawn by Miss Helen Ingersoll 98 

xv 



xvi ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING 
PAGE 



Hind Foot of a Mountain Goat. Drawn by Miss Ingersoll 98 

The Function of a Mountain Goat's Rear Dew-claws. 

Drawn by Miss Ingersoll 98 

Bottom of a Mountain Goat's Foot. Drawn by Miss Ingersoll 102 

Bottom of a Sheep's Foot . . . Drawn by Miss Ingersoll 102 

Skeleton of an Adult Male Mountain Goat 102 

Timber-Line in Winter 130 

A Big-Horn Ram's Signature 142 

Goat Lick on the Southern Slope of Cyclorama Ridge . . 142 

Early Morning on Goat Pass 146 

The Little Hay-Maker of the Slide-Rock 150 

The Grizzly's Lawful Prey — The Columbia River Ground 

Squirrel 150 

The Author's Grizzly Bear. Photograph by W. T. Hornaday 168 
The Scene of Two Actions — Goats and Grizzly . . . .170 

Mr. Phillips's Grizzly 176 

The Haunt of the Camera Goat 182- 

The Face of the Precipice from Below, with Goat in situ . 186 

The Goat on the Stratified Rock .188 

The Goat at Ease 190 

An Angry Mountain Goat at Close Quarters 192 

The Goat Climbing Down and Away 194 

Mr. Phillips's most Dangerous Position. 

Drawn by Charles B. Hudson 196 

A Rainy Day in Camp 206 

"The Lunch Counter" at Camp Hornaday 214 

Mr. Phillips's Finest Mountain Sheep 244 

The Brooklyn Ram, Thirty Minutes after Death .... 248 

A Prize Big-Horn Head 254 

Head of a Black Mountain Sheep 254 



ILLUSTRATIONS xvii 



FACING 
PAGE 



Head of Largest Big-Horn Ram, side view 260 

Head of Largest Big-Horn Ram, front view 260 

Mr. Phillips Regrets the Impending Extinction of the Grizzly 

Bear 278 

The Might of a Snow-Slide 282 

A Great Snow-Slide . . . Drawn by Charles B. Hudson 286 

A Snow-Comb at Timber-Line 288 

The Pack-Train on a Great Field of Slide-Rock .... 290 

The Western Yellow-Haired Porcupine 304 

Canada Lynx, in Trap . . . Photograph by C. L. Smith 304 

The Wolverine, in Trap . . Photograph by C. L. Smith 310 

The Wolverine in New York. Photograph by E. R. Sanborn 310 

A Dark-Skinned Marten 314 

A Typical Marten Trap . 314 

The Haunt of the Harlequin Duck .318 

The Water Ouzel 318 

A Typical Mountain Lakelet 324 

Packing up the Trophies 328 

The Tangle of " Dead" and " Down " Timber, Avalanche 

Creek 330 

Log-Running over "Down" Timber 330 

Risking his Life for a Kid. Drawn by Charles B. Hudson 334 

A Newly-Captured Mountain Goat Kid 336 

Kaiser, looking for Goats 342 

MAPS 

Sketch Map of the Elk and Bull River Region, East Koote- 

nay, B. C. . By John M. Phillips 8 

Distribution of the White Mountain Goat. By W. T. Hornaday 106 



CAMP-FIRES IN THE 
CANADIAN ROCKIES 



CAMP-FIRES IN THE 
CANADIAN ROCKIES 

CHAPTER I 

THE PILGRIMAGE TO GOATLAND 

The Delectable Mountains — Over the Great Northern — The Sweet- 
Grass Hills — Into the Rockies — The Fernie Game-Protectors — 
British Columbia Game-Laws too Liberal. 

In an unguarded moment, Mr. John M. Phillips, of 
Pittsburg, — true sportsman, game-protector, mountaineer, 
photographer and genial gentleman, all in one,* — told 
me of some wonderful mountains in the far West. He 
said they are well rilled with game, and as yet wholly 
unspoiled by hunters. There the mountain goat abounds, 
and can be studied to excellent advantage. There are 
grizzly bears and mountain sheep which may be killed 
under license, and a few elk which may not. In that 
wonderland of Nature no sportsman has yet set foot 
without Mr. Phillips's consent and cooperation; for it 
was discovered by him and his guides, and by them is 
carefully preserved from ruin. 

Thoughtlessly, I voiced my long-standing desire to 

* Mr. Phillips is also State Game Commissioner, and the founder of the 
Lewis and Clark Club. 



2 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

see many mountain goats at home, in fine mountains ; and 
straightway my good friend graciously invited me to 
accompany him on his next trip. Before the invitation 
could be withdrawn and cancelled, it was accepted. 

Being averse to deep snow as the basis of a pleasure- 
trip, I voted for September as the month, and although 
Mr. Phillips thought that the chances for finding griz- 
zlies in that month were not great, he readily consented. 
Never having gone through northern Montana from end 
to end, I bespoke the selection of the Great Northern 
Railway as our route from St. Paul, and we found that 
the panorama of Montana thus secured was delightful 
as well as instructive. 

The country traversed by the Northern Pacific Rail- 
way is to me almost as familiar as my own door-yard; 
but what lay north of the Missouri? And wherein 
would it differ? 

Through the level and fertile wheat-lands of northern 
Minnesota, there run so many parallels and feeders of the 
Great Northern system that the " main line " is almost 
a fiction of the past. The tenderfoot needs to be told 
which section he is riding upon. From St. Paul up to 
the latitude of Grand Forks, even a new trolley-line 
would seem to be an inexcusable extravagance. 

A ride in August through the heart of our great 
north-western wheat-belt is an event. Mile after mile, 
and hour after hour, the sea of golden grain is being 
swept in by the harvesters, bound into millions of bun- 
dles, — with the least possible expenditure of labor, — 
shocked, loaded and hauled to the threshers. Hither, 



THE PILGRIMAGE TO GOATLAND 3 

yonder, anywhere, the steam thresher " 'lights " for a 
few hours, and a section of the wheat-laden plain is thrust 
into its insatiable maw. No longer does the farmer and 
his labor-swapping neighbors toil and moil on the straw- 
stack, as of yore. The automatic stacker does all that, 
while the farmer busies himself with gathering in the 
spoil. The straw-heaps dot the stubble-fields at near in- 
tervals, and with the baled product selling in New York 
at $18 per ton, these reckless north-western nabobs 
burn their strawl 

In the days of the buffalo millions, this country was 
a part of the summer range of the great northern herd. 
And it was to these same smoothly shaven plains, in North 
Dakota, delightfully free from the sage-brush that per- 
vades the lands farther south, that the Red River settlers, 
of what is now Manitoba, came every summer with their 
great caravans of carts, accompanied by their wives and 
children. They came to kill buffaloes, dry their meat, 
make pemmican and cure buffalo-hides for leather, — all 
for use during the long and dreary winters that tried 
men's souls. The naked plains over which the Red River 
settlers joyously drove their carts are now covered with 
wheat. The creaky cart has given place to the locomo- 
tive. The steam thresher has taken the place of the half- 
breed's rifle, while to the present generation pemmican 
is almost unknown. 

And now, when at last we are surfeited by the abun- 
dance of the harvest, and worn out with thankfulness for 
the continued prosperity of the great wheat-belt, we 
glide on into Montana, and turn with even keener inter- 



4 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

est to a new panorama, — the late lamented " Wild 
West." 

Throughout the once great but now greatly dimin- 
ished Sioux Indian Reservation, canvas tepees, log cabins, 
blanketed braves, broad-beamed squaws and paintless 
wagons abound. The Fort Peck Reservation, as it is 
called, begins near Calais and extends to Whateley, 
about eighty miles. The time was when the Sioux were 
picturesque, uncertain, and at times even thrilling. As 
tame Indians, with no more buffalo-herds to tempt them 
upon the war-path, the Sioux look commonplace. When 
I think how the souls of their hunters must yearn for the 
chase, and how even the excitement of horse-stealing is 
denied them, I pity them. It is no wonder that even 
with horses in abundance, parties of young Sioux of the 
" warrior " class used to go down to the Crow Reserva- 
tion, two hundred miles or more, steal horses and run 
them up north of the Missouri, purely for the excitement 
of the chase. 

South-east of Fort Assiniboin, about forty miles away, 
is a mountain mass of considerable magnitude. It is 
the Bear Paw Mountains, once good hunting-grounds 
for big game, but now " hunted out." All along the line 
of the Great Northern, from Minnesota to the mountains, 
there is an astonishing absence of sage-brush. It is so 
abundant along the Northern Pacific west of the Mis- 
souri that I expected to see a good showing of it farther 
north. But there is so little of it that it fails to count; 
and there is no other plains brush to take its place. 
South of the Sweet-Grass Hills, for instance, the prairie 



THE PILGRIMAGE TO GOATLAND 5 

is like a smoothly shaven lawn. On hundreds of square 
miles of it, we see not a tree, nor a bush as thick as a pen- 
holder. More than this, there is no rank grass, and the 
earth looks as if it were covered with a vast and all- 
pervading sheet of cocoa matting. Upon it, a jack-rabbit 
looms up to enormous proportions, — or would if there 
were one left to loom. 

It is from this smoothly shaven and almost level 
world of brown-gray that the three peaks of the Sweet- 
Grass Hills rise suddenly and sharply out of the plain, 
without a vestige of intervening foot-hills. Rising as 
they do, they seem lofty, steep-sided, black and even un- 
canny. From certain points you see th; t they stand on a 
wide and almost level bench, like three mineral speci- 
mens on a thin pedestal. Notice particularly the bench 
that joins the western side of the most westerly peak. 
Miles and miles to the westward, it rises very abruptly, 
and with its top almost level, it runs up toward the peak 
without the slightest break in its upper line. These Hills 
are about forty miles from the railway, and for fully 
one hour the train glides along seemingly due south of 
them. 

The Great Northern reaches the main range of the 
Rocky Mountains at Midvale, and the transition from 
plains to mountains is made quite abruptly. Here the 
Rockies are not in the least like those crossed by the 
Union Pacific, — so modest and uneventful you scarce 
know where they begin or leave off. You can plant your 
foot on the very spot where these begin; and from that 
spot they tower up to the heights of your imagina- 



6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

tion of what real mountains should be. The foot of 
these mountains marks the eastern boundary of what now 
is the great Lewis and Clark Forest Reserve, embracing 
the whole main range of the Rockies from the inter- 
national boundary southward, one hundred and thirty- 
five miles, to the lower end of the Flathead Reservation. 

As you glide smoothly along the south fork of the 
Flathead River, you are aware of much dead timber, 
both standing and " down." Unless you are an old cam- 
paigner, however, the sight of those tracts of " down 
timber " does not strike any terror to your soul. But 
wait! One week hence, and you shall learn, by wrench 
of joint and sweat of brow, by ups and by downs, just 
how terrible fallen tree-trunks can become. 

From our first entry into the Rocky Mountains, at 
the edge of the Sweet-Grass plains, until a month later 
when we left them at that point bound east, we were 
never out of the highlands. The ride through to Rex- 
ford is a beautiful panorama of mountain scenery and 
vegetation. Hour by hour Mr. Phillips devoured it with 
his eyes, missing not even one rock or tree, or one emerald 
green pool of the clear mountain stream far below. 

Like a hair-pin on the map, the Kootenay River 
comes down from British Columbia into the north-west- 
ern corner of Montana, bends westward for a short dis- 
tance, then turns and runs north again — as if it had found 
Montana an inhospitable country. At the extreme east- 
ern angle of the big bend is the backwoods hamlet of 
Rexford; and be it known that the section of the Great 
Northern from Columbus Falls to Spokane direct is no 



THE PILGRIMAGE TO GOATLAND 7 

longer the " main line," but a branch. The main line 
runs up to Rexford, and thence down to Spokane. 

At Rexford, we changed to the branch line of the 
Great Northern which runs up the east bank of the 
Kootenay, into British Columbia. At Gateway we had 
the pleasure of seeing the mythical International Boun- 
dary, and standing astride it. It lies across the railway- 
platform, and is painted white. Near by, a bronze monu- 
ment has been erected to its memory. 

This branch brings us to the Canadian Pacific Rail- 
way at Fernie, the metropolis of the great soft-coal min- 
ing district known as the " Fernie district." It is in the 
extreme south-eastern corner of British Columbia. 

At Fernie, Attorney H. W. Herchmer, president of 
the local Game Protective Association, gave us a royal 
welcome, and turned over to us the two non-resident 
hunting-licenses which he had procured at our request. 
The licenses cost us $50 each. They conveyed full war- 
rant of law for the holder to kill five mountain goats 
(sex not mentioned), three mountain sheep rams, griz- 
zly bear without number, six deer (sexes immaterial), 
and one bull moose. Elk are absolutely protected. 

When on our way out, we stopped in Fernie over 
night, and President Herchmer called a special meet- 
ing of the Fernie District Game Protective Association, 
at his home. During this meeting we discussed the 
game law. 

We objected to the goat item, on the ground that no 
man should be permitted to kill more than three goats 
in a year; and we held that females should not be killed 



8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

at all. Any man who is unable to distinguish an adult 
male from a female should not be permitted to hunt 
goats. We objected to the limit of three mountain sheep 
rams, on the ground that in view of the scarcity of those 
animals, one ram in one year is enough for one man. 
" Six deer " should be changed to " three male deer," 
and unlimited grizzly bears to one only. 

STATEMENT OF LICENSE LAW 

Legal to kill in 1905: As it should be: 

5 Caribou (males only), 3 male Caribou, 

5 Goats, 3 male Goats, 

3 Mountain Sheep Rams, 1 Sheep ram of each species, 

5 Deer, 3 Male Deer of each species, 

2 Moose (males only), I Grizzly Bear, 

Unlimited Grizzly Bears, 2 Black Bears, 

Unlimited Black Bears, No Moose south of lat. 52 until 

No elk. 19 10, 

No elk on mainland until 1920. 

The present law prohibiting the sale of game heads 
is admirable, but it needs more rigid enforcement than 
at this date (1905) prevails. So long as large sheep 
heads are worth from $25 to $50 each, unmounted, just 
so long will hunters and taxidermists take risks in selling 
them. 

The big game of British Columbia is a public asset 
of very considerable value. If rightly protected and 
exploited, it can be made to yield to the southern dis- 
tricts many thousands of dollars annually, — in the hire of 
guides and horses, the purchase of supplies, and in license 
fees. At the same time, by carefully protecting all 



THE PILGRIMAGE TO GOATLAND 9 

female animals, the game can be maintained at a point 
which does not spell extinction. The Fernie District 
Game Protective Association was not organized a mo- 
ment too soon. Its work is cut out for it, and it is to be 
hoped that it will retain a large membership, together 
with a large annual income, in order that it may have 
the power to protect. Game cannot be really protected 
without the expenditure of some money. 

Possibly my American Reader may be tempted to 
think that all this is of little interest to him; but not so. 
The perpetual preservation of the grand game of the 
grand mountain-land just beyond our northern boundary 
is of interest to every American sportsman; and I hope 
this seeming digression will be endorsed. 

Mr. Phillips and I have strongly recommended to 
the Fernie Association that immediate steps be taken by 
the provincial parliament to permanently set aside, as a 
game preserve, the country between the Bull and Elk 
Rivers, with Charles L. Smith in charge of it as warden. 
The reasons for such a step are too many to mention 
here, but let me say that there are practically no reasons 
against it. Whoever aids in preserving from extinction 
the grand game of British Columbia renders good ser- 
vice to two countries. 



CHAPTER II 

IN THE VALLEY OF ELK RIVER 

Fernie and Michel — Mr. Crahan and his Hotel — Return of Professor 
H. F. Osborn and his Family — The Members of our Outfit — The 
First Wild Animal — Jack Pine Timber — Sheep Mountain — "My 
Mountain," for a Month — A Marten Trap — Fool-Hens. 

We are constitutionally opposed to long delays in 
journeys to hunting-grounds, either on the rails or on 
paper; but in the valley of Elk River we found so much 
of interest it is impossible to ignore this gateway to our 
garden of the gods. 

I have already said that a spur of the Great North- 
ern Railway reaches Fernie, the Phoenix City of the 
great soft-coal mining district, which incendiaries seem 
determined to wipe off the earth by fire, but which re- 
fuses to stay burned down. It is on the Crow's Nest 
branch of the Canadian Pacific Railway, which breaks 
through the main range of the Rockies at Crow's Nest 
Pass about one hundred and twenty miles south of Banff 
and the main line. At Fernie you feel that you have 
fully arrived in British Columbia, for on all sides lofty 
mountains loom up and frown down in rock-ribbed maj- 
esty. One peak of commanding presence, north of the 
town, is about to be christened Owl's Head; but the 
name is not satisfactorily apt. The top of the peak looks 



IN THE VALLEY OF ELK RIVER n 

much like a flying dragon, carved in stone, but little like 
an owl. 

At Fernie any person (with money) can buy almost 
anything in the outfit line, from a trout-hook to an auto- 
mobile. The hotels are excellent, and the men of our 
kind are courteous and hospitable. There are goats on the 
mountains within ten miles of the town, available for 
those who have no time to go farther. 

We took an east-bound train, ran on north up the 
Elk River about fourteen miles, then left the Elk Valley 
and turned abruptly eastward. After four miles more, 
up Michel Creek, through a timbered valley as level 
as a dancing-floor and not much wider, we reached the 
town of Michel, our last stop by rail. Michel is a 
French name, and in conformity with the one invari- 
able rule in French pronunciation — never pronounce a 
French word as it is spelled, — it is pronounced Me-sheir. 
The town is a mile and a quarter long by five hundred 
feet wide; and along the sides, no suburbs need apply, 
because there is no room for them. Immediately beyond 
the outermost houses the mountains rise up and up, steep 
as a house-roof, and very high. To-day the bare slide- 
ways that already lead down the northern slope give 
grim warning of what can happen hereafter. The town 
is strung along the bottom of a V-shaped trough in the 
mountains, and every spring we will dread to hear of 
its partial burial under a million tons of snow, ice, tree- 
trunks and slide-rock. It reminds one of the fatalistic 
Italian peasant villages on the slopes of Vesuvius. 

AH Michel is painted Indian-red. The Crow's Nest 



12 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Coal Company owns the whole place; red is a good, 
cheap, durable color, and what more would you have? 
The coal-mines are in both the northern and southern 
mountains, the veins are very thick, the coal is good, and 
the profits are said to be eminently satisfactory to the 
parties of the first part. The post-office is a freak, no 
more, no less. Not the slightest attention was paid to 
" In care of Charles L. Smith " on our letters ; and to 
find the office open one must stalk the postmaster as if 
he were a mountain lion. 

The Hotel Michel is a wonder. In a small mining 
town, in the heart of a wilderness, one does not expect 
much of a hotel; but here is every needful luxury, and 
from bottom to top everything is as clean as a new knife. 
The food is excellent, and the service away above par. 

All this excellence is due to Mr. Thomas Crahan, 
an American, who is one of the most interesting men in 
that region. The story of how he tamed the bar-room 
when he assumed control of the hotel, and has since ruled 
it with a hand of steel in a velvet glove, is both interest- 
ing and instructive as a study in conglomerate human 
nature. Twenty-four nationalities are represented in 
that little town, and the place is quiet and peaceful to 
the point of dulness. 

Three weeks previous to our arrival, Professor Henry 
Fairfield Osborn, of New York, took his family up the 
valley of the Elk to the Sulphur Springs, for an outing 
under canvas, with plenty of fishing and photography. 
We found them all on the veranda of the hotel, happy and 
aglow with the spell of the mountains. They said it was 



IN THE VALLEY OF ELK RIVER 13 

the finest mountain trip they had ever had, — and they 
have had a-many. 

They discovered and christened Josephine Falls, and 
caught eighteen-inch trout in Fording River until con- 
science called a halt. On the lofty clay bluffs of Ford- 
ing River, quite near the Falls, Professor Osborn, with 
the aid of Charlie Smith, Mack Norboe and Dog 
Kaiser, cornered a pair of mountain goats and photo- 
graphed them! And after that the guides took the Pro- 
fessor up Goat Creek, and on the peak which we soon 
made haste to christen Mount Osborn, he photographed 
more goats. Mr. Phillips and I were among those pres- 
ent when the Professor first met Mrs. Osborn, his son 
and daughter on his return from the summits, and for 
the first time told them the story of his remarkable ex- 
perience with his camera and the goats it caught. It 
created a profound sensation. 

The only store in Michel is a department store, of 
astonishing size and scope. There we completed our 
outfit, down to the smallest detail. Mr. Phillips laid in 
a stock of provisions which fairly made me gasp at the 
luxuriance — and weight — of the array. I was prepared 
to fare briefly and to the point, because we were to travel 
by pack-train; but John believes in living well, and is 
what old-fashioned folk call " a good provider." For 
reasons of state, I laid in a special supply of salt, twine, 
allspice, pepper, oil, doctor's stuff and extra blankets, all 
of which played their respective parts in due season. 

When finally we got into our hunting-clothes and hit 
the trail, our outfit was absolutely perfect. From my 



i 4 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

point of view, the supply of canned goods was too heavy; 
but later on I observed that we made away with nearly 
the whole of it. 

The party consisted of Mr. Phillips and the writer, 
two guides, a scout, a cook, a dog and eight horses. 
The guides were Charles L. Smith of the Elk River 
valley, and R. W. Norboe, of Meyers Falls, Washing- 
ton. John Norboe was the scout, and G. E. Huddleston 
was the cook. Kaiser was the official Dog, — and a finer 
hunting-dog I never associated with. Before the hunt 
ended, I once slept with him in my arms (to keep him 
warm) , and I think I earned his respect and friendship. 

From New York to Michel the continent seemed 
utterly barren of mammalian life, except in the Sioux 
Reservation, where we saw a few gray-coated Franklin 
ground-squirrels (Citeilus franklini). We saw neither 
antelope, coyote, swift nor prairie-dog! On the Dakota 
lakes and ponds there were a few ducks, enjoying im- 
munity until September; but the total number was small. 

At Charles L. Smith's ranch, on Elk River, five miles 
below Michel, we at last saw a Wild Animal! A big 
pack-rat (Neotoma) of sociable habits, calmly climbed 
into the grub-wagon that was to go as far up as Sulphur 
Springs, and settled itself for a migration at our expense. 
The stowaway was discovered, and the alarm sounded. 
There between two of the boxes, its head in full view 
under the edge of the tarpaulin, was as droll a face as 
could be imagined. The big black eyes looked at us 
inquiringly, but calmly, and even fearlessly. They said : 

" Well, what's all this noise about? Why don't you 



IN THE VALLEY OF ELK RIVER 15 

drive on? You needn't be afraid of Me; I'm not afraid 
of You." 

How different would have been the action of a 
domestic rat! One of those villains would have leaped 
about, and rushed through that load like a murine 
cyclone, to hide from its just deserts. If cornered it 
would squeal, and bite, and fight all humanity, and 
finally be killed in ghoulish glee. But the optimistic 
attitude of that gray-furred and comfortable rascal in- 
stantly disarmed all hostility. At once a cry went up, 

" Save him for the Zoo! " 

Huddleston, the cook, put on his leather gloves, 
calmly plucked forth Neotoma from amid the boxes, 
and put him in a cage, to await our return. Around 
the ranches in the Elk River valley, these handsome and 
good-natured pack-rats were quite common. During the 
month we were in the mountains Mrs. Huddleston 
caught four more for me, alive and unhurt, but two 
escaped and two died. 

I think these creatures could easily be tamed and 
trained to perform a variety of tricks. They are so 
steady of nerve, so conscious of their own rectitude, and 
yet so original and versatile in mind, it seems to me they 
must be capable of successful training. Who will be the 
wise party to introduce to the world the first and only 
Troupe of Trained Rocky Mountain Neotomas? When 
'tis done, I predict an astonishing display of mental 
capacity. 

On September 3d we " pulled our freight," literally, 
up the Elk Valley, in a lumber wagon, for one day's 



1 6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

easy march of twenty-two miles. A mile above Charlie 
Smith's ranch a deer was seen bounding away toward 
the river. At Frank Harmer's ranch, four miles farther 
on, we found the fresh tracks of a bear, and it was with 
some difficulty that I checked a digression into the 
jack pines to look for their maker. To Mr. Phillips it 
seemed morally wrong to let that bear go unscotched. 

Harmer's ranch is enclosed by a fence each panel of 
which was made of three big jack pine logs, a foot in 
diameter and about thirty feet long, neatly laid one above 
another, resting at each end on three logs of the same 
size about four feet long, laid squarely across the axis 
of the fence. Both in looks and utility it is a good 
fence, but rather heavy to build. 

At Connor's ranch, fifteen miles from town, we 
bought a pailful of delicious butter, at thirty-three cents 
a pound, and continued our northward flight. We 
forded Elk River, over an awful bed of bowlders that 
seemed certain to break a leg for each horse in the out- 
fit. A mile or so beyond that crossing we forded Ford- 
ing River and entered a long and beautiful stretch of 
jack pines, which revealed several interesting pages of 
natural history. 

In British Columbia the jack pine is not merely a 
tree; it is an institution.* At its best it is an arboreal 
column from ninety to one hundred and ten feet in 

* The Western Jack Pine, or Lodge- Pole Pine (Pinus diviricata). Its 
average height in the good soil of the Elk River valley is very close to one 
hundred feet, but its diameter is very small. The spread of a one-hundred- 
foot tree is only about eight feet. 



IN THE VALLEY OF ELK RIVER 17 

height. Its stem is like a gigantic toothpick which rises 
as straight and flawless as a ship's mast, and gradually 
tapers up to infinity. The regularity of the taper of the 
trunk, and the straightness of it, are wonderful. For 
about fifty feet up the branches are apt to be dead, and 
gray, and broken; but above that the fine evergreen 
branches thrust out a little way, most carefully however, 
in order not to be guilty of provoking a growth outside 
of the true perpendicular. 

Where a tract of timber has been thoroughly burned, 
in such valleys as that of the Elk, millions of young jack 
pines spring up. If ever you are tempted to make a 
short cut on foot through such a natural nursery, shun 
that lovely snare. Go around it rather than struggle 
through it. To forge directly through is a very trouble- 
some and tiresome event. A jack pine forest through 
which fire has recently passed, killing everything, makes 
one think of an army of skeletons on parade. As the 
stems lose their hold upon mother earth, and under press- 
ure of winds from all quarters, come sweeping down, 
they fall across each other, two, three or six deep, and 
create obstructions to travel of a most serious character. 
In British Columbia, " down timber" is an oft-recurring 
curse. Often it is a nuisance of the first magnitude. We 
saw much of down timber, before we were many days 
older, and upon one or two members of our little party 
it rang many changes. 

When you have travelled up the Elk Valley about 
ten miles from the railway, to your right, across two miles 
of valley there rises a fine mountain mass five miles long 



1 8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

and half a mile high. It is called Sheep Mountain, be- 
cause of the notable rams of Ovis canadensis which Mr. 
Phillips and his boon companions, Smith, Norboe and 
Jack Lewis, have killed and eaten upon its rock-ribbed 
sides. John never will forget his first ram, an inexperi- 
enced young creature, chased and shot on the central 
summit, late in October, with the wind blowing cold and 
strong, when he and Jack Lewis were benighted on the 
rocky top, without blankets or food. Later on he told 
me the whole story. 

At mid-day we halted for luncheon opposite a moun- 
tain which rises directly north of Sheep Mountain, and 
separated from it only by the narrow rift through which 
Pass Creek flows westward into the Elk. It is about four 
miles long, its height is about the same as Sheep Moun- 
tain, and by reason of its isolation it is clear-cut and 
monumental. I asked its name, and the men all admitted, 
with apologies, that it had none. Then Mr. Phillips 
announced, with convincing emphasis, that it should be 
named in my honor; and it was so set down. 

This was a very complimentary proposition, but on 
the official maps of British Columbia, the motion will 
hardly prevail. The local authorities will not tamely 
submit to the naming of so fine a mountain after a mythi- 
cal eastern " tourist." Nevertheless, for the brief month 
that we were in those wilds, that mountain was always 
spoken of in our party as my mountain, and I have at 
least known — for thirty days — how it feels to have a tall 
namesake of Nature's fashioning for my very own. 

Mile after mile, the wagon-trail led us along an ever- 



IN THE VALLEY OF ELK RIVER 19 

green tunnel through a dense forest of jack pines, and 
on the way through we saw many interesting things. 
One of the first was two small saplings from which the 
bark had recently been stripped clean by an elk who 
wished to rub the velvet off his new antlers. And close 
beside the two white stems was a third sapling, the size 
of a walking-stick, which not only had been peeled but 
also bitten in two about four feet from the ground. It 
was good to see such fresh proofs of the fact that elk 
still survive in the valley of the Elk. 

The next object of special interest was a marten trap, 
close beside the trail. It was such as any good axeman 
can make in about two hours, with an axe and a sapling. 
It was a very neat piece of work. A spruce sapling 
about ten inches in diameter was cut off four feet above 
the ground, so squarely that the top of the stump was 
practically level. From somewhere or other, three very 
thin pieces of spruce, like shingles seven inches wide, 
were split off and driven into three cracks split in the 
top of the stump, cornering together to form a tight box, 
open on top and one side. Then a ten-foot length was 
cut out of the sapling stem, one end placed on the ground, 
and the other rested in the box with one side out. This 
was a deadfall. With two sticks a very simple trigger 
was made, the log was raised, the triggers fixed to hold 
it up, and a bait adjusted on the end of the long arm of 
the trigger. The upper end of the log was raised six 
inches above the edge of the stump. Result: The wan- 
dering marten smells the bait. He cannot reach it from 
above, so he climbs nimbly up the side of the stump, 



20 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

crawls under the deadfall and into the shingle-box, seizes 
the bait with a greedy growl of exultation, and crash! 
the log comes down upon his devoted back, at $10 per 
crash. 

There are many advantages about this axe-made 
marten trap. A wolverine cannot steal it and throw it 
into the nearest river; it is never stolen by the Bad Man 
of the Fernie District; it never rusts, it is cheap, and 
there is no need to " order it from the factory." The 
only drawback about it is that martens do not always 
range in timber suitable for deadfall traps. 
o As we rode ahead of the wagon, Mr. Phillips on 
" Lady-Bug," Charlie on " Muggins," and I on old 
" Warrior," Dog Kaiser side-stepped into the jungle and 
gave tongue. In a deep, rich voice he cried " Oh! Woo! 
woo! woo!" with his nose pointed upward into a low 
jack pine. 

" Fool-Hens," said Charlie, dismounting. About ten 
feet above Kaiser's nose sat a fine, full-plumaged male 
Franklin grouse, with a superbly black breast and neck, 
but no mental capacity. To all appearances it was a bird 
of only two ideas: (i) to forage on the ground until dis- 
turbed, and (2) when disturbed to fly only ten feet into 
the nearest tree and wait to be shot. Naturally, a bird 
with only two ideas is not long for this world. Five 
birds rose before the dog and perched in five nearby 
jack pines and spruces. I sat down within ten feet of a 
particularly intelligent-looking bird, while the others 
went off, and killed birds for supper. I wished to see 
how the noise and bustle would affect my bird's nerves. 




Hornaday Mountain 

Looking northeast across Elk River. 



IN THE VALLEY OF ELK RIVER ai 

Using his 22-calibre pistol in a most business-like 
way Mr. Phillips proceeded to " pop " down the more 
distant birds, in rotation. At each shot I expected that 
my bird would either protest, or take wing; but it did 
neither. It calmly sat there, sodden in stupidity; it 
looked about in wonder, and waited until the hunters 
came up, all ready to add it to the bag. But some one 
interposed with a suggestion that the bag was already 
large enough, which was readily accepted. At last the 
bird was fairly driven to flight. With a loud whir of 
wings it disappeared in the forest, and I presume it is 
yet in that jungle, breeding fool-hens still more foolish 
than itself. 

With this strange bird, the pendulum seems to have 
swung the wrong way, and it will hardly survive 
through a sufficient number of generations to acquire 
the doctrine of self-preservation. It is a phenomenon. 
Charlie Smith tells this story of our genial friend, 
Mr. G. N. Monro, of Pittsburg, who has hunted in 
this region: 

Two years ago a party very much like ours was pass- 
ing through that same jack pine jungle. Mr. Monro 
and Mack Norboe were ahead, and as usual, some fool- 
hens were scared up. One alighted in a tree near the 
tenderfoot, who very naturally became fired with a desire 
to possess it. 

"Stop, Mack, stop!" said Mr. Monro. "Get my 
shot-gun out of the wagon, quickly." 

" What d'ye want it for? " asked Mack in his sepul- 
chral voice. 



22 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

"To shoot this grouse! Look there! don't you 
see it? " 

" Yes, I see it. Do you really want that bird? " 

" Want it? Of course I want it! Get my gun, quick, 
before it flies." 

" Oh, well, if you want it, I'll get it for you," said 
Mack. Dismounting, he picked up a small club, threw 
it at the bird, at very short range, and hit the mark. The 
bird fell dead; whereupon Mack calmly picked it up, 
and handed it up to Mr. Monro, saying indifferently, 
" Here it is." 

"And," said Charlie, "you ought to have seen the 
disgusted look on Mr. Monro's face as he looked at 
Mack, and took that bird! " 

I skinned the finest male grouse of the bunch that 
Mr. Phillips shot. It was seventeen inches in total 
length, tip of beak to end of tail, with a wing-spread of 
twenty-four and one-half inches. Its crop contained a 
dessertspoonful of blueberries, eight blueberry leaves 
and six needles of the jack pine. The species could not 
be called plentiful in the region we traversed. From 
first to last we saw about thirty birds, always in green 
timber. 

About two hours before sunset we came to a level 
meadow of a hundred acres, heavily set in rank grass, 
and lying very low. Two hay-stacks towered aloft to a 
height of about seven feet, and from them it was evident 
that we were on the " ranch " of Wild-Cat Charlie, at 
the Sulphur Spring. We pulled up the steep ridge that 
bounded the meadow on the west, and went into camp 



IN THE VALLEY OF ELK RIVER 23 

on its summit. Elk River flows by the western foot of 
the ridge, and across the meadow, half a mile eastward, 
is the already famous Sulphur Spring. 

If you don't know about the Spring, and sleep on the 
ridge with a strange man in your tent, and the wind 
blowing from the east, you will be horrified by the dis- 
covery (as Charlie Smith once was) that the stranger 
is far on the way toward decomposition. 

On our day's journey up, we saw twenty bluebirds, a 
pigeon-hawk (Falco columbarius) and a golden eagle. 



CHAPTER III 

A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER 

•A Bath in the Sulphur Spring — A Ride to Fording River — Cut-Throat 
Trout galore — Josephine Falls — Evening over the Elk Valley. 

Reader, did you ever have a day of ideal trout-fishing, 
in a rushing mountain stream? I hope you have, for if 
so it leaves that much less to desire. It is good to have 
one fling at a fine thing, even though the day and the 
hour never return. 

In Elk River, below the Sulphur Spring there is no 
extra-fine fishing, for the reason that the accessibility of 
the stream has caused the biggest fish to disappear via 
the short line. So Charlie Smith planned that we should 
make a trip for trout over to Fording River, partly, as 
he phrased it, " to break the director in gradually, before 
we get into the high mountains." In New York I 
hunted long for rubber-bodied may-flies, and I carried 
a rod and reel twenty-five hundred miles for one day on 
Fording River; but that day was worth it! 

When we made camp on the ridge, the wind was 
easterly, and there poured across that meadow, and up 
over the ridge, a wave of sulphuretted hydrogen that 
plainly told us we had arrived at the Sulphur Spring. 

Forthwith Mr. Phillips bade me prepare to bathe, 

24 



A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER 25 

and follow him. To bathe in that awful hole was the 
regular thing to do; so we sadly tramped across the 
meadow to the foot of the mountain-ridge that rises from 
its eastern side; and there we found the Spring. 

At the edge of the grass lay a pale-green pool, eighty 
feet long, forty feet wide, and in the deepest place about 
twelve feet deep. The water was very clear, except 
where a metallic scum floated upon the surface, and the 
bottom looked like corroded copper. For a bath it was 
the most uncanny-looking proposition I ever encoun- 
tered; and I have bathed with alligators, gavials and 
sharks, more than once. The bottom looked most unsatis- 
factory; but being unable to make or to mend it, we dis- 
robed, — very slowly and reluctantly it seemed to me, — 
and prepared to take our medicine. 

It was necessary to cross one end of the pool, on two 
villainous saplings which tried hard to throw us down; 
and the sharp stones on the hinterland cut our bare feet 
most exquisitely. John bravely led the way into the hor- 
rid hole, and when I followed, the warmth of the water 
proved unexpectedly grateful and comforting. The tem- 
perature was about 72 degrees, except where the water 
streamed up out of the ground, and there it must have 
been about 90 degrees. In a few minutes we became 
hardened to the powerful yellow fumes which lay like 
a blanket on the surface of the pool, and then the bath 
became really enjoyable, — all but the bottom. The slime 
in which we stood, whenever we ceased to swim, was 
neither nice nor tidy, and so we swam as much as pos- 
sible. In the centre of the pool, where the water was 



a6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

dark, and one could not see the bottom, I tried to meas- 
ure its depth, but found it far over my head. 

Already this spring is locally famous for its healing 
properties as applied to rheumatism. Close beside the 
pool, on the ridge side, stood a little seven-by-nine log 
cabin with a yawning fireplace at the farther end. Along 
the north side of the cabin extended a seven-foot trough, 
dug out of a big spruce log, with a cavity large enough 
to contain a man. This was the outfit of an old trapper 
who had been afflicted with rheumatism, and spent a 
winter here, treating himself with commendable dili- 
gence and hot sulphur water. When it was too cold to 
bathe in the pool he filled his log bath-tub with sulphur- 
water, heated it with hot stones from his fire, then got 
in and loafed and invited his soul at 90 degrees or more. 
A hundred feet farther south stood another and a bet- 
ter cabin in which my guide, philosopher and friend, 
Charlie Smith, lived for three months last spring while 
he cured his rheumatism, — at least temporarily. 

Some day in the near future, this spot will be ruined 
forever by the erection on the ridge of a modern Hot 
Springs Hotel, with electric lights, telephones, lobster 
salad and starched linen. Therefore I am glad that we 
have gambolled in the Sulphur Spring in all its primitive 
rawness, and that Mr. Phillips shot a coyote from the 
edge of it immediately after our bath. Our men came 
out from camp to carry in a deer, and had the disappoint- 
ment been caused by any one else than the patron saint of 
Elk River, uncanny things might have been said. 

Charlie Smith and Mack Norboe assured me that 



A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER 27 

when the wind is easterly, the odor of the Sulphur Spring 
can plainly be detected at the top of the mountain on the 
western side of Elk River, fully three miles away. 

From our camp in the Elk Valley, Fording River 
lies eastward, beyond a mountain and miles away. Mr. 
Phillips and Mack Norboe set out to walk to the fishing- 
place, in order to hunt on the way, for mule deer. We 
were to meet at noon at Josephine Falls. Charlie and I 
rode, in order to have horses on which to carry home 
the fish. 

We entered the meadow, and rode north the entire 
length of it, to where it terminates in a beautiful park- 
like tract of scattered spruces and pines. Then we 
climbed the easterly ridge, up through an open growth 
of more pines and spruces, birch and quaking asp, up 
and up, for at least a thousand feet. After a long ride 
on the ridge side and over its northern crest, we entered 
an awful tangle of fallen timber and brush. We wound 
to and fro, up and down, to find a practicable route for 
the horses. That the faithful animals did not break 
their legs was a source of wonderment, and their skill 
in getting over tree-trunks without accident was really 
remarkable. 

At last we reached the edge of the plateau we had 
painfully crossed, and saw below us a deep and narrow 
valley, with a very steep pitch downward. On its far- 
ther side were shaly perpendicular bluffs, rising high. 
Fortunately the ground was soft, and we were able to 
ride down with little difficulty. The descent seemed 
endless, but we zigzagged lower and lower until at last 



28 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

we reached the bushes and cobble-stones which indicated 
the bottom of the valley. 

At its widest, the valley was only about seventy-five 
feet wide, and about half of it was occupied by the swiftly 
racing stream. Three hundred yards above our landing- 
place, a cataract, about thirty feet high by fifty feet wide, 
poured a torrent of foam down a series of ragged steps 
worn in the edge of a thick bed of decomposing shale. 
The incline was about 60 degrees, and the volume of 
water churned itself into froth the moment it made its 
first plunge. On the south side of the falls the shale 
steps offer a very good footway to the top. 

This picturesque waterfall was discovered by Pro- 
fessor Henry F. Osborn and his family, only three weeks 
previous to our visit, and named in honor of Miss Jose- 
phine Osborn, a sweet maid in her teens, who caught the 
largest trout thus far recorded from that spot. During 
the two days' stay of the Osborn family in that romantic 
spot, they had the novel pleasure of feeding bread from 
their luncheon to a small flock of harlequin ducks that 
were disporting in the pool at the foot of the falls. 

There are two other falls a short distance above 
Josephine Falls, but we did not take time to visit them. 

But the fishing! Do not think, patient Reader, that 
we lost any time after our arrival in looking at scenery 
of any kind. It seemed to me, however, that many pre- 
cious moments were wasted in getting out our fly-books, 
and reels, and in putting things together. 

" Try a cast in there," said Charlie > indicating a 
section of the stream where the swift current was all 




Trout Fishing at Josephine Falls 



A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER 29 

crowded together at the farther side, and went rushing 
against the rock wall at the rate of ten miles an hour. 

I threw my fly upon the racing water, and let it ride 
downstream, bobbing up and down on the waves. The 
first cast went for nothing, but in the next, the fly had 
not ridden more than half-way down when there was a 
golden-yellow flash across the current, a rush, and a 
greedy pull on the line. 

"There! You've got one already!" cried Charlie. 
" Be careful, and don't let your line slacken! " 

The first trout! It was a thrilling moment. My 
blood seemed to be suddenly set back about twenty years. 
With every new tug on the end of the rod my fingers 
tingled as if I held the poles of an electric battery. It 
was a new thing to hook a big fish and see it, every 
instant. 

I was too anxious to land my first fish for any in- 
dulgence in exhibition play. The trout rushed in many 
directions, mostly upstream on the bias, or across, for I 
gave him no chance to run down. As he turned half 
over in rushing away from my side of the stream, the sun 
caught his golden side and lit it up gloriously. How 
fine he did look! 

With as little delay as possible I reeled him in and 
swung him shoreward until Charlie was able to reach 
out, and land him fairly upon the clean cobble-stones. He 
was a Cut-Throat Trout {Salmo clarkii) better named 
Black-Spotted Trout, but by people of this region known 
as " Dolly-Varden " Trout. The upper half of the body 
is of a pale golden-yellow color, dotted all over from 



3 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

upper lip to tail tip with small elliptical black spots that 
stand vertically. The lower half of the body is suffused 
with a warm sunset glow of pinkish color, while the 
under surface is silvery white. The lower edge of each 
membrane covering the gills, under the head, looks as 
if a painter had given each side a stroke with a paint- 
brush charged with rose-madder, making a red V; and 
from this " effect," suggesting a cut throat, has come the 
gruesome English name by which this fish is known to 
the great majority of its acquaintances. The real Dolly- 
Varden Trout is a charr (Salvelinus parkei), closely 
related to the spotted brook-trout, with a much more 
pointed head, light spots instead of dark, and only one- 
fourth as many of them as the Cut-Throat. Both species, 
however, inhabit the mountain-streams of the Pacific 
slope from California and Montana to Alaska. 

But all this while we lost no time in moralizing over 
the exact scientific status and affinities of our first fish. 
From start to finish it was a wild revel. I soon became 
so set up with four or five big fish that I refused to 
engage any small fry. Whenever I saw a small fish dart 
toward my fly, I snatched it away from him x and angled 
for his betters. Whenever by any untoward accident a 
one-pound fish took the hook in spite of me, we landed 
him without loss of time, took the hook from his lip, and 
with an admonition never to do so any more until he got 
big, gently dropped him back home. 

The Cut-Throat Trout is, after all, a dainty biter. 
Although he takes an imitation may-fly swiftly, and even 
joyously, he does not greedily gulp it far down into his 



A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER 31 

anatomy, and make all kinds of trouble. He seizes with 
his lips only, not his throat; and almost invariably the 
hook is found holding feebly in his lip. This scanty hold 
requires much care in playing the fish, and a line con- 
stantly taut, to keep the hook in its place. With the least 
carelessness, away goes the fish. It also makes it easy to 
remove a fish that is too small, and put it back in the 
stream as good as new. One fly lasts a long time, and is 
good for at least three or four fish of approved size. 

While the fun was at its height, and we had five fine 
fish to the good, Mr. Phillips and Mack Norboe joined 
us, ready and eager for the fray. John quickly devel- 
oped his rod, reeved the line home and bent on a fly. 
With the first cast, above my fishing-place, he hooked 
and landed a fine fish, and in less than three minutes had 
landed four more! 

Then he paused, turned to his admiring audience 
with a guilty laugh, and exclaimed, 

" This is nothing but slaughter! " 

Truly it was. The fish struck as fast as he could 
throw in his line and haul them out. We both paused 
to consider, for every man in our party believed in the 
policy of stopping at " enough." We had ten fish, and 
our limit was forthwith fixed at fifteen for the two days 
that six men would be trying to consume them. 

We scrambled along the rocks up to Josephine Falls, 
and I determined to have a try in the boiling caldron at 
the foot of the cataract, to see if trout could see to take 
a fly in such white water. It was no trouble to get a 
good position on the shale steps close beside the foot of 



32 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

the torrent, where the facilities for fly-casting were of 
the best. 

I threw into the caldron, many times, reaching every 
yard of its surface, but got only one really good fish. 
Then Mr. Phillips yelled to Charlie, and above the roar 
of the falls, Charlie passed it on to me. 

" He wants to take you taking out the fish! Hold on 
a minute! " 

"Tell him to hurry!" 

The trout fought gamely, and never gave up for an 
instant. John worked with his camera, and I with the 
fish, to hold my game for the desired moment, — but all 
the time fearing that it would get away. At last the 
expected happened. My line suddenly slackened, and 
communicated to my nerve-centres the sickening sensa- 
tion that when written out spells " lost! " 

A little later I hooked another and a smaller fish, 
and John fired when he was ready; but the result is not 
good to look upon. The fewer snap-shots that are made 
of a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound man, dressed decol- 
lete, who is really fishing or hunting, the better ; for they 
are apt to be the reverse of picturesque, and seldom show 
the victim to any advantage. 

For the Cut-Throat Trout the pool at the foot of 
Josephine Falls is the head of navigation. Charlie Smith 
says there are no trout above. I saw individuals trying 
to leap up the falls, but they did not rise more than four 
or five feet out of the water. It would take an Atlantic 
salmon eight feet long, with horse-power to match his 
size, to overleap that fall. 




The Pack-Train Leaving Sulphur Spring Camp 



A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER 33 

At one o'clock we camped on the bank, amid clean 
rocks and bushes, with an abundance of drinking-water 
close by, and ate our luncheon. Some one suggested broil- 
ing a couple of trout; and for appearance's sake I would 
like to record the fact that we did so. It would have been 
the regular thing to do; but I must tell the truth. The 
fact is, we were all too much overcome with the languor 
of lotus-eaters to do more than think about it. In other 
words, we were too lazy to clean the fish, and broil them 
properly. There was plenty of luncheon, the sunshine 
was gloriously inviting, the river was like a dream, its roar 
was soothing music, — and what more would you have ! 

After a quiet hour, we sprang up, eager for the re- 
mainder of our quota of fish. We tried the stream for 
" big ones," but from the falls down to the first still 
water we got not a single rise. The strife between us 
was not merely to catch fish, and land them, but to catch 
the biggest ones, only, and avoid hooking the small fry. 
We became quite expert in snatching our flies away from 
fish that were too small. 

Up to the fourteenth fish, Mr. Phillips was ahead of 
me on size; but No. 15 came to my fly, and finally was 
landed in triumph. It measured eighteen inches, beat- 
ing John's largest by a whole eighth of an inch. Later 
on, however, I remembered that he did the measuring, 
and I will always have grave doubts about the actual exist- 
ence of that eighth. I fear the steel tape slipped in my 
favor. At all events, that fish weighed two pounds four 
ounces ; and we all joyously guessed far above its weight. 

It is needless to say that the flesh of the Cut-Throat 



34 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Trout, as we found it, is hard, juicy, and delicious. How 
could it be otherwise? It is a pity, however, that this 
fish is so easily taken, for gullibility in game always 
spells early disappearance. It would be better all around 
if the fish were more shy and persistent, for few men have 
the iron resolution to halt at the fifteenth or twentieth 
fish, and take the long trail back. 

In returning, there was no such thing as riding our 
horses up the terrific hill which led to the plateau. We 
scrambled up on foot, rest by rest, and were fairly glad 
to reach the top. Only an iron horse could carry a man 
or woman up that slope. 

As we rode home, the view over the valley of the Elk, 
and into the lofty mountains beyond, was fairly entranc- 
ing. The level valley, — it seemed level, from that lofty 
height, — was laid out in patterns of dense green timber, 
gray dead timber, and yellow-green meadow, with a sil- 
ver serpent of river winding gracefully to and fro. Be- 
yond all this a great bank of mountains loomed darkly 
into the evening sky. A smoky haze, which softened the 
outlines of both valley and mountain, was pierced at one 
point by a column of smoke from burning timber. Even 
while we looked with great enjoyment upon this fasci- 
nating and restful picture, we saw under the smoke the 
bright gleam of fire ; and a moment later, a one-hundred- 
foot spruce-tree suddenly became enveloped in flames. 
The blaze quickly climbed to the top of the leafy spire, 
burned brightly for a minute, — a veritable pillar of fire, 
— then died down and glowed dully against the dark 
shadows that lay beyond. 



CHAPTER IV 

TRAVEL IN THE MOUNTAINS 

" House-Roof Mountains " — Making Up Packs — When Charlie Threw 
Down his Pack — Valley Thoroughfares — Green Timber — Down 
Timber — Trail-Cutting — Berries of the Mountains. 

In the matter of mountain travel, be it remembered 
that there are mountains and mountains. In some of 
them, valleys of comfortable width and openness are a 
kind of habit. Others have a bad way of bringing you 
up against the rocky nose of an overhanging cliff, and 
taking toll from your nerves or your muscles before your 
pack-train is safely by. In some, you are eternally fight- 
ing with timber, brush, and decaying moss-covered forest 
debris. By reason of its hot-house atmosphere and rains, 
I believe the mountains of Borneo are to the climber the 
most exhausting of all on earth. 

Some mountains seem morally upright and fair, while 
others, despite their heights, are actually mean. Some 
give the hunter a fair reward for much hard labor, but 
others tantalize him into wearing out his soul for naught. 
Think of seeing twenty-one bears in twenty days, without 
being able to get a shot at one! (This by reason of snow- 
bent willows on the slides.) It is not all of hunting to 
kill game; and why should one hunt in mean mountains, 
monotonous forests or water-soaked plains! 

35 



36 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

In our little corner of British Columbia, the heights 
are of the kind which may best be described as house- 
roof mountains. They are cleanly cut, they rise very 
steeply and have very narrow valleys. Often they ter- 
minate at the top in sharp knife-edges, and fairly bristle 
with peaks and precipices. In them, travel by pack-train 
means creeping up or down the narrow valleys until a 
crossable divide is found. Travel on foot, especially in 
hunting, always means hard climbing, either up or down. 
In hunting, you climb up a long and steep acclivity, hop- 
ing for a restful table-land at the top, only to find the 
summit a chisel's edge terminating at either end against 
a sheer precipice. Usually the other side of every ridge 
is worse than the first, dropping down into a great basin, 
so fast and so far that you halt dismayed at the thought 
of going down to the bottom, and climbing back again 
before nightfall. With the Columbian Rockies, famil- 
iarity breeds anything but contempt. 

All the valleys that we saw in the mountains between 
the Elk and the Bull were very narrow, and difficult to 
traverse. Take a small postal card, bend it along the 
middle into a right angle, and you will have, if you set 
it up on the apex of the angle, a very fair representation 
in miniature of the mountain-slopes in the goat moun- 
tains, and the width of the valleys between them. There 
are many places where the valleys between high moun- 
tains are not over fifty feet wide at the bottom, and above 
that you work hard for every foot that you win. 

In nine miles out of every ten, the mountain-sides are 
so steep, or so badly enmeshed in down timber, that 



TRAVEL IN THE MOUNTAINS 37 

horses cannot travel along them without exhausting 
labor. It is therefore a fixed line of action that when- 
ever a laden pack-train is seeking to cover distance it 
must stick to the bottoms of the valleys; and when it 
climbs a steep ascent, it is either to surmount a pass, or 
to avoid an obstruction. 

The ascent of Goat Creek to its source may well be 
taken as an example of travel by pack-train in the moun- 
tains of British Columbia. 

For farm wagons, the Sulphur Spring is at present 
the head of navigation, and on the morning after our day 
on Fording River our pack-train was regularly made up. 
In rugged mountains, the proper making up of the load 
for each horse is a matter which no packer can make 
light of. Charlie, Mack and John spent a long hour in 
overhauling our freight, weighing sections of it on my 
game-scales, and parcelling out the loads. They accepted 
" air-tights " nailed up in their original packages, with a 
cheerfulness that spoke volumes for their experience. I 
never before saw such an array of heavy wooden boxes 
put upon six horses with such supreme indifference. 
And I never before saw six packs made up and cinched 
with so little fuss. The work the horses did during the 
next four weeks in carrying those packs was really very 
severe, and to the credit of " the boys " I must record 
the fact that not once did a load cause trouble; not a 
single breakable object was broken; and above all, no 
horse was punished by a sore back. 

The foundation principle in making up packs is to 
class things according to their genera and species, and 



3 8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

make each load as homogeneous as possible. For in- 
stance, they did not load a horse with a bed-roll on one 
side and canned goods on the other. Dead weight on 
one side calls for similar weight on the other, and bulk 
demands bulk. The diamond hitch with its cutting ropes 
was not employed, every load being provided with broad 
girths made especially for packs. In making up a pack- 
train, Charlie Smith is a past master, but the Norboes 
also are very skilful at it. 

Just above our Sulphur Spring Camp, we passed the 
cabin of a lame and solitary but cheerful German rancher 
named Wild-Cat Charlie. When we passed his estab- 
lishment, he was absent, making hay; and on his cabin- 
door hung a large padlock. 

" Well," I said, " this is the first lock I have ever 
seen on a ranchman's door in the wild West." 

" Oh, pshaw! That's all bluff," Charlie Smith hast- 
ened to say. " He locks his door, because he is proud 
of having the only padlock in the Valley; but he tells 
everybody where he keeps the key. There it is, — on that 
nail." 

It is known that Wild-Cat Charlie is no great reader, 
and is wellnigh destitute of books and papers. Our 
men are constantly wondering what he thinks about, — or 
whether he thinks at all, — during the fearfully long win- 
ter evenings, as he sits by his fire and smokes. Although 
somewhat cranky, he is very hospitable, and many a 
half-frozen trapper has had occasion to bless the wel- 
coming hand and warm fireside to be found at " Wild- 
Cat Charlie's." 




Fording Elk River 

The trees on the bank are Jack pines. One spruce on the extreme right. 



TRAVEL IN THE MOUNTAINS 39 

And this reminds me of the story our Charlie and 
Mack told me, jointly, of their forced march in the dead 
of winter, from Bull River, thirty miles over two ranges 
of mountains, and down Goat Creek through deep snow, 
all in one day. 

" That," said Charlie, " was the only time I ever threw 
down my pack; but I surely threw it down that night, 
and only two miles from the Dutchman's cabin. For 
the last two hours of that tramp I walked just like a 
wooden machine. I was all the time afraid I would fall 
down; for I knew that as sure as I did, I couldn't get 
up! Cold? It was forty below zero, and we hadn't had 
any too much to eat, either. At last I did throw away 
my pack, and when we finally got to Charlie's cabin, I 
was the worst played-out I ever was in my whole life. 
I couldn't have gone another mile, not to have saved my 
own life." 

For about three miles from Wild-Cat Charlie's cabin, 
along the west bank of the Elk, we jogged on northward 
at a rapid pace. At last we reached the mouth of a creek 
that came brawling down from the goat country. It was 
Goat Creek; and turning into its narrow valley, the 
climb to the summits began. 

In that country it is no uncommon thing for a moun- 
tain stream to drop at the rate of three hundred feet to 
the mile. Often the descent is even more than that. As 
a rule, you do not realize how much you are climbing 
until you reach the source of the trouble and start down. 
You climb up slowly, with constant meanderings, and 
cannot gauge the elevation gained ; but in coming down, 



4 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

with your seven-league boots on, you can better judge 
of the situation as a whole. Near the end of the trip I 
was part of a striking illustration of this strange fact. 

Our first half-day's travel up that steep mountain- 
groove was spent chiefly on the northern slope. There 
were long stretches of " green timber," — which means 
living coniferous timber, green all the year round. In 
it the ground was covered with a velvet carpet of brown 
needles, and ornamented with a setting of thimbleberry 
bushes bearing bright crimson berries. There were 
thousands of slender, open-topped currant bushes bear- 
ing scattered clusters of jet-black currants, bitter to the 
taste but good to allay mouth-dryness and thirst. The 
trees are mostly the Canadian white spruce (Picea Engel- 
manni) and the jack pine, with a sprinkling of balsam, 
juniper, quaking asp and larch. Throughout that whole 
region the deciduous trees are so few that they are very 
inconspicuous, and those which do exist are mostly 
mere bushes. 

In the green timber the soft ground is very restful to 
feet that are dead tired from the ankle-strain of rugged 
slide-rock. The aroma of the coniferous foliage is both 
grateful and comforting, but the best hunting-grounds 
for large game animals are found elsewhere. No won- 
der that in past years the Indians occasionally set fire to 
the forests, and burned out great areas in order to let in 
the sunlight, grow grass and create good feeding-grounds 
— and also hunting-grounds, — for hoofed animals. 

But the beautiful and all-embracing " green timber " 
has its habitants. Its resinous shadows envelop and shel- 



TRAVEL IN THE MOUNTAINS 41 

ter the agile lynx, the sinister wolverine, the too-confiding 
marten, the prosy porcupine, the busy red squirrel, and 
an occasional wolf. The grizzly and the black bear are 
transient guests, but in times of real trouble, no wild 
creatures value green timber more than they. The elk 
and deer also find it a welcome retreat. 

One of the most impressive features of those moun- 
tains is the sharpness with which everything is deline- 
ated. The different elements which make up the face of 
Nature are not always softly and artistically blended 
together, as a skilful artist blends the color boundaries 
on his canvas. Each patch of green timber is as sharply 
defined at its edges as the grounds of a county fair. In 
one step you leave the glaring sunlight, and are swal- 
lowed up by the dark, restful shadows, just as when one 
steps from the glare and stress of a stone pavement into 
the soothing shadows of a cloister. By one step you 
make your exit, and land full upon the angular agonies 
of slide-rock, or into the horizontal terrors of " down 
timber." For a mile 4 or more a creek will go brawling 
noisily over its bed of stones, and all at once drop entirely 
out of sight, under a great mass of slide-rock. Down the 
steep mountain-side, the track of each avalanche is cut as 
clean as the swath of a mower going through tall grass, 

Even timber-line itself is not half so long drawn out 
as one usually sees in other mountains. There is no diffi- 
culty in drawing a contour line to mark it out on your 
sketch. 

Throughout our mountains, there was no such thing 
as travelling by pack-train without a cut-out trail. The 



42 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

down timber positively forbade it; and even in the ever- 
green tracts there were so many fallen trees that it was 
impossible to get on without the axe. Had we at any 
time lost both our axes, our horses would have been com- 
pelled to turn back and retrace their steps. 

A loaded pack-horse can step over any log that is 
not more than twenty-six inches from the ground, but 
before one exceeding that height, something else must be 
done. If it is a small log, the trail-cutter chops a three- 
foot section out of it, or cuts it in two in order that the 
top section may fall down. If it is a large trunk, the 
trail must go around it. A good mountain-horse can get 
over any log that he can step over with his forelegs, for 
with his forelegs well placed, he can successfully jump 
his hindlegs over. 

In bad down timber, like that of lower Avalanche 
Creek, a trail takes a course about like this, beside which 
chain lightning is ruler-straight: 




If anything will teach a man patience, a bad case of 
down timber will do so. There is no use in fretting over 
it; and swearing at it is the height of folly. The secret 
of such navigation lies in a calm determination to give 
the horse plenty of time, and " stay with it." To hurry 
your horses is to invite broken legs, — a thought which 
will promptly cool down the wildest impatience. 

Naturally, the laying out of a trail calls for a quick 
eye and good judgment in choosing the route which de- 



TRAVEL IN THE MOUNTAINS 43 

mands the least chopping, and that does not tack too 
often nor too far. As the axe-man proceeds, he must 
mark the course between log-cuttings by lopping off a 
bush, or scalping the top of a log with a single sweep of 
his axe as he walks along, leaving a spot of clean, bright 
wood. 

Where conditions are not too severe, men like our 
four can chop out a trail with astonishing rapidity; but 
occasionally they encounter long stretches of down tim- 
ber that simply " break their hearts." In such places as 
lower Avalanche Creek, there is nothing to do but to 
camp and chop. 

In several creeks that we opened up to our pack- 
train, we found old Indian trails, some of which helped 
us very much. The first sign of such a trail is a large 
bush or a small sapling that has been cut down by many 
feeble blows. 

"Squaw hatchet!" or "Squaw work!" our guides 
often exclaimed, pointing to a stem that had been un- 
skilfully hacked down. A white man, with a sharp axe, 
cuts down with one or two clean blows a sapling that a 
squaw assaults a dozen times with her dull hatchet before 
it falls. 

A long stretch of slide-rock is always a hard road for 
a pack-train, unless a good trail has already been made 
across it. I will have more to say of slide-rock farther 
on, but in entering the mountains we encountered it, 
soon and plenty. I know of but one species of rock 
travel that is worse for a horse, and that is the slippery, 
rounded bowlders, big and little, that so often underlie 



44 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

the fording-places of mountain rivers. They seem spe- 
cially designed to break horses' legs, and the only way 
to cheat them of their prey is by permitting the horse to 
creep along, feeling cautiously for each stepping-place. 

On slide-rock, the rocks are horribly angular, sharp- 
edged and cruel, and occasionally an unshod horse leaves 
a trail of blood behind him. But the train moves straight 
forward, even though its progress is slow; and fortu- 
nately one does not strike miles and miles of continuous 
slide-rock. 

In travelling by pack-train through rough country, 
much time is lost by deploying to pass obstructions. On 
Goat Creek we sometimes climbed from two hundred to 
four hundred feet up the steep mountain in order to pass 
above a sheer bluff, and immediately after would lose 
all our altitude by being forced to drop back to the bot- 
tom of the valley. When thoroughly tired, such diver- 
sions, in climbing up only to climb down again, seem a 
sinful waste of horse-power. 

Beyond the first half-day's travel up Goat Creek, 
there was no trail, and Charlie and the Norboes had to 
cut one the remainder of the way to the summit. Mr. 
Phillips and I elected to go ahead of the outfit, hunting 
on foot, and reach the camping-place on Goat Pass about 
the same time as the others. 

At the point where we were to leave Smith and his 
axe, we halted to rest, and as we looked about for places 
to sit down, Charlie exclaimed, 

" Here are some red raspberries, all ripe and ready 
for ye!" 




« 

o 

O 

O 

13 

> 
<u 

h 



TRAVEL IN THE MOUNTAINS 45 

It was indeed true. Over a space as large as a New 
York City lot, there grew a scattering cover of bushes 
a foot high, bearing red raspberries, fully ripe, and de- 
licious. We flung ourselves upon them, and feasted. I 
like to hunt in a country that contains something in the 
form of fruit, nuts or berries that a hungry man can eat. 
In the tropics it is seldom indeed that one finds in a for- 
est any of these wilderness luxuries. The traveller who 
cannot live by his gun or rod must carry his food with 
him, or starve. Beside the poverty-stricken tropical for- 
ests, the forests of the temperate zone are rich in things 
edible to man. Now when Charlie and I went on that 
side hunt and discovered Josephine Lake, we found a 
whole mountain-side covered with delicious huckle- 
berries, of three species, upon which we gratefully fed. 
Had there been a grizzly bear " among those present," 
he would have stood aghast at the havoc we wrought. 



CHAPTER V 

THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 

Our Welcome to Goatland — Three Goats Stampede through our 
Camp — A Wild Spot — Mountain Color on a Gray Day — An Early- 
Morning Caller — Goats at Rest — How Goats Climb — Stalking 
Two Big Billies — Two Goats Killed — Measurements and Weight. 

JOHN PHILLIPS and I were scrambling along the 
steep and rough eastern face of Bald Mountain, a few 
yards below timber-line, half-way up 'twixt creek and 
summit. He was light of weight, well-seasoned and 
nimble-footed; I was heavy, ill-conditioned, and hungry 
for more air. Between the slide-rock, down timber and 
brush, the going had been undeniably bad, and in spite 
of numerous rests I was almost fagged. 

Far below us, at the bottom of the V-shaped valley, 
the horse-bell faintly tinkled, and as Mack and Charlie 
whacked out the trail, the pack-train crept forward. We 
were thankful that the camping-place, on Goat Pass, was 
only a mile beyond. 

Presently we heard a voice faintly shouting to us 
from below. 

" Look above you, — at the goatsl " 

Hastily we moved out of a brush-patch, and looked 
aloft. At the top of the precipice that rose above our 

slope, a long, irregular line of living forms perched 

4 6 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 47 

absurdly on the sky-line, and looked over the edge, at 
us. Quickly we brought our glasses to bear, and counted 
fourteen living and wild Rocky Mountain goats. 

" All nannies, young billies, and kids," said Mr. 
Phillips. " They are trying to guess what kind of wild 
animals we are." I noticed that he was quite calm ; but 
I felt various things which seemed to sum themselves 
up in the formula, — " the Rocky Mountain goat, — at 
last\" 

For fully ten minutes, the entire fourteen white ones 
steadfastly gazed down upon us, with but few changes 
of position, and few remarks. Finally, one by one they 
drew back from the edge of the precipice, and quietly 
drifted away over the bald crest of the mountain. 

For twenty years I had been reading the scanty scraps 
of mountain-goat literature that at long intervals have 
appeared in print. I had seen seven specimens alive in 
captivity, and helped to care for four of them. With a 
firm belief that the game was worth it, I had travelled 
twenty-five hundred miles or more in order to meet this 
strange animal in its own home, and cultivate a close 
acquaintance with half a dozen wild flocks. 

At three o'clock we camped at timber-line, on a high 
and difficult pass between the Elk River and the Bull. 
That night we christened the ridge Goat Pas's. While 
the guides and the cook unpacked the outfit and pitched 
the tents, Mr. Phillips hurried down the western side of 
the divide. Fifteen minutes later he and Kaiser, — in my 
opinion the wisest hunting-dog in British Columbia, — 
had twenty-eight nanny goats and kids at bay on the top 



48 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

of a precipice, and were photographing them at the risk 
of their lives. 

Rifle and glass in hand, I sat down on a little knoll 
a few yards above the tents, to watch a lame billy goat 
who was quietly grazing and limping along the side of 
a lofty ridge that came down east of us from Phillips 
Peak. A lame wild animal in a country wherein a shot 
had not been fired for five years, was, to all of us, a real 
novelty; and with my glasses I watched that goat long 
and well. It was his left foreleg that was lame, and it 
was the opinion of the party that the old fellow was 
suffering from an accident received on the rocks. Pos- 
sibly a stone had been rolled down upon him, by another 
goat. 

Suddenly sharp cries of surprise came up from the 
camp, and I sprang up to look about. Three goats were 
running past the tents at top speed, — a big billy, and two 
smaller goats. 

" Hi, there! Goats! Goats!" cried Smith and 
Norboe. 

The cook was stooping over the fire, and looking 
under his right arm he saw the bunch charging straight 
toward him, at a gallop. A second later, the big billy 
was almost upon him. 

"Hey! You son-of-a-gun/" yelled Huddleston, and 
as the big snow-white animal dashed past him he struck 
it across the neck with a stick of firewood. The goat's 
tracks were within six feet of the camp-fire. 

The billy ran straight through the camp, then swung 
sharply to the left, and the last I saw of him was his 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 49 

humpy hindquarters wildly bobbing up and down among 
the dead jack pines, as he ran for Bald Mountain. 

The two smaller goats held their course, and one 
promptly disappeared. The other leaped across our 
water-hole, and as it scrambled out of the gully near my 
position, and paused for a few seconds to look back- 
ward, instinctively I covered it with my rifle. But only 
for an instant. " Come as they may," thought I, " my 
first goat shall not be a small one!" And as the goat 
turned and raced on up, my .303 Savage came down. 

We laughed long at the utter absurdity of three wild 
goats actually breaking into the privacy of our camp, on 
our first afternoon in Goatland. In the Elk Valley 
Charlie Smith had promised me that we would camp 
" right among the goats," and he had royally kept his 
word. 

At evening, when we gathered round the camp-fire, 
and counted up, we found that on our first day in Goat- 
land, we had seen a total of fifty-three goats; and no one 
had fired a shot. As for myself, I felt quite set up over 
my presence of mind in not firing at the goat which I 
had " dead to rights " after it had invaded our camp, 
and which might have been killed as a measure of self- 
defence. 

Our camp was pitched in a most commanding and 
awe-inspiring spot. We were precisely at timber-line, 
in a grassy hollow on the lowest summit between Bald 
and Bird Mountains, on the north, and Phillips Peak, 
on the south. From our tents the ground rose for sev- 
eral hundred feet, like the cables of the Brooklyn Bridge, 



50 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

until it stopped against a rock wall which went on up 
several hundred feet more. In a notch quite near us 
was a big bank of eternal ice. In that country, such 
things are called glaciers; and its melting foot was the 
starting-point of Goat Creek. Fifty paces taken east- 
ward from our tents brought us to a projecting point 
from which we looked down a hundred feet to a rope 
of white water, and on down Goat Creek as it drops 
five hundred feet to the mile, to the point where it turns 
a sharp corner to the right, and disappears. 

Westward of camp, after climbing up a hundred feet 
or so, through dead standing timber, the ridge slopes 
steeply down for a mile and a half to the bottom of a 
great basin half filled with green timber, that opens 
toward Bull River. It was on this slope, at a point where 
a wall of rock cropped out, that Mr. Phillips cornered 
his flock of goats and photographed them. 

At our camp, water and wood were abundant; there 
was plenty of fine grass for our horses, spruce boughs 
for our beds, scenery for millions, and what more could 
we ask? 

The day following our arrival on Goat Pass was dull 
and rainy, with a little snow, and we all remained in 
camp. At intervals, some one would stroll out to our 
lookout point above Goat Creek, and eye-search the 
valley below " to see if an old silver-tip could come 
a-moochin' up, by accident," as Guide Smith quaintly 
phrased it. 

That gray day taught me something of color values 
in those mountains. As seen from our lookout point, the 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 51 

long, even stretch of house-roof mountain-slope on the 
farther side of Goat Creek was a revelation. In the full 
sunlight of a clear day, its tints were nothing to com- 
mand particular attention. Strong light seemed to take 
the colors out of everything. But a cloudy day, with a 
little rain on the face of nature, was like new varnish 
on an old oil-painting. 

During the forenoon, fleecy white clouds chased each 
other over the pass and through our camp, and for much 
of the time the Goat Creek gorge was cloud-filled. At 
last, however, about noon, they rose and drifted away, 
and then the mountain opposite revealed a color pattern 
that was exquisitely beautiful. 

For a distance of a thousand yards the ridge-side 
stretched away down the valley, straight and even; and 
in that distance it was furrowed from top to bottom by 
ten or twelve gullies, and ribbed by an equal number of 
ridges. At the bottom of the gorge was a dense green 
fringe of tall, obelisk spruces, very much alive. In many 
places, ghostly processions of dead spruces, limbless and 
gray, forlornly climbed the ridges, until half-way up the 
highest stragglers stopped. Intermixed with these tall 
poles were patches of trailing juniper of a dark olive- 
green color, growing tightly to the steep slope. 

The apex of each timbered ridge was covered with a 
solid mass of great willow-herb or " fireweed " (Cha- 
maenerion an gusti folium) , then in its brightest autumn 
tints of purple and red. The brilliant patches of color 
which they painted on the mountain-side would have 
rejoiced the heart of an artist. This glorious plant 



52 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

colored nearly every mountain-side in that region during 
our September there. 

Below the fireweed, the ridges were dotted with 
small, cone-shaped spruces, and trailing junipers (Juni- 
perus prostrata), of the densest and richest green. The 
grassy sides of the gullies were all pale yellow-green, 
softly blended at the edges with the darker colors that 
framed them in. At the bottom of each washout was a 
mass of light-gray slide- rock, and above all this rare pat- 
tern of soft colors loomed a lofty wall of naked carbon- 
iferous limestone rock, gray, grim and forbidding. 

It seemed to me that I never elsewhere had seen 
mountains so rich in colors as the ranges between the 
Elk and the Bull in that particular September. 

The rain and the drifting clouds were with us for 
one day only. Very early on the second morning, while 
Mr. Phillips and I lay in our sleeping-bags considering 
the grave question of getting or not getting up, Mack 
Norboe's voice was heard outside, speaking low but to 
the point: 

" Director, here's an old billy goat, lying right above 
our camp ! " 

It was like twelve hundred volts. We tumbled out 
of our bags, slipped on our shoes, and ran out. Sure 
enough, a full-grown male goat was lying on the crest 
of the divide that led up to the summit of Bald Moun- 
tain, seventy-five feet above us, and not more than two 
hundred and fifty yards away. The shooting of him was 
left to me. 

I think I could have bagged that animal as he lay; 




The Size of a Mountain Goat 

The author's specimen, after falling 100 feet, and rolling 200 feet on the slide-rock. 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME S3 

but what would there have been in that of any interest 
to a sportsman? I had not asked any goats to come 
down to our camp, and lie down to be shot! 

Not caring greatly whether I got that goat or not, 
I attempted a stalk along the western side of the ridge, 
through the dead timber, and well below him. But the 
old fellow was not half so sleepy as he looked. When 
finally I came up to a point that was supposed to com- 
mand his works, I found that he had winded me. He 
had vanished from his resting-place, and was already far 
up the side of Bald Mountain, conducting a masterly 
retreat. 

After a hurried breakfast, we made ready for a day 
with the goats on the northern mountains. Although 
there are many things in favor of small parties, — the 
best consisting of one guide and one hunter, — we all went 
together, — Mr. Phillips, Mack, Charlie and I. Our 
leader declared a determination to " see the director 
shoot his first goat " ; and I assured the others that the 
services of all would be needed in carrying home my 
spoils. 

As we turned back toward camp, and took time to 
look " at the sceneries," the view westward, toward Bull 
River, disclosed a cloud effect so beautiful that Mr. 
Phillips insisted upon photographing it, then and there. 
To give the " touch of life " which he always demanded, 
I sat in, as usual. 

By Mr. Phillips's advice, I put on suspenders and 
loosened my cartridge-belt, in order to breathe with per- 
fect freedom. We wore no leggings. Our shoes were 



54 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

heavily hobnailed, and while I had thought mine as 
light as one dared use in that region of ragged rocks, 
I found that for cliff-climbing they were too heavy, and 
too stiff in the soles. Of course knee-breeches are the 
thing, but they should be so well cut that in steep 
climbing they will not drag on the knees, and waste the 
climber's horse-power; and there should be a generous 
opening at the knee. 

In those mountains, four things, and only four, are 
positively indispensable to every party, — rifles, axes, field- 
glasses and blankets. Each member of our hunting 
party carried a good glass, and never stirred from camp 
without it. For myself, I tried an experiment. Two 
months previously Mrs. Hornaday selected for me, in 
Paris, a very good opera-glass, made by Lemaire, with 
a field that was delightfully large and clear. While not 
quite so powerful a magnifier as the strongest binoculars 
now on the market, its field was so much clearer that I 
thought I would prefer it. It was much smaller than 
any regulation field-glass, and I carried it either in a 
pocket of my trousers, or loose inside my hunting-shirt, 
quite forgetful of its weight. 

It proved a great success. We found much interest 
in testing it with binoculars five times as costly, and the 
universal verdict was that it would reveal an animal as 
far as a hunter could go to it, and find it. I mention this 
because in climbing I found it well worth while to be 
free from a dangling leather case that is always in the 
way, and often is too large for comfort. 

From our camp we went north, along the top of the 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 55 

eastern wall of Bald Mountain. Two miles from home 
we topped a sharp rise, and there directly ahead, and 
only a quarter of a mile away on an eastern slope lay a 
band of eleven goats, basking in the welcome sunshine. 
The flock was composed of nannies, yearling billies and 
kids, with not even one old billy among those present. 
Two old chaperons lay with their heads well up, on the 
lookout, but all the others lay full length upon the grass, 
with their backs uphill. Three of the small kids lay 
close against their mothers. 

They were on the northerly point of a fine mountain 
meadow, with safety rocks on three sides. Just beyond 
them lay a ragged hogback of rock, both sides of which 
were so precipitous that no man save an experienced 
mountaineer would venture far upon it. It was to this 
rugged fortress that the goats promptly retreated for 
safety when we left off watching them, and rose from 
our concealment. Their sunning-ground looked like a 
sheep-yard, and we saw that goats had many times lain 
upon that spot. 

Near by, behind a living windbreak, was a goat- 
bed, that looked as if goats had lain in it five hundred 
times. By some curious circumstance, a dozen stunted 
spruces had woven themselves together, as if for mutual 
support, until they formed a tight evergreen wall ten feet 
long and eight feet high. It ranged north and south, 
forming an excellent hedge-like shield from easterly 
winds, while the steep mountain partially cut off the 
winds from the west. On the upper side of that natural 
windbreak, the turf had been worn into dust, and the 



56 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

droppings were several inches deep. Apparently it was 
liked because it was a good shelter, in the centre of a 
fine sky-pasture, and within a few jumps of ideal safety 
rocks. 

From the spot where the goats had lain, looking 
ahead and to our left, we beheld a new mountain. Later 
on we christened it Bird Mountain, because of the flocks 
of ptarmigan we found upon its summit. Near its sum- 
mit we saw five more goats, all females and kids. At 
our feet lay a deep, rich-looking basin, then a low ridge, 
another basin with a lakelet in it, and beyond that an- 
other ridge, much higher than the first. Ridge No. 2 
had dead timber upon it, but it was very scattering, for 
it was timber-line; and its upper end snugged up against 
the eastern wall of Bird Mountain. Later on we found 
that the northern side of that ridge ended in a wall of 
rock that was scalable by man in one place only. 

"Yonder are two big old billies!" said some one 
with a glass in action. 

"Yes sir; there they are; all alone, and heading this 
way, too. Those are your goats this time, Director, sure 
enough." 

" Now boys," said I, " if we can stalk those two goats 
successfully, and bag them both, neatly and in quick time, 
we can call it genuine goat-hunting! " 

They were distant about a mile and a half, jogging 
along down a rocky hill, through a perfect maze of 
gullies, ridges, grass-plots and rocks, one of them keep- 
ing from forty to fifty feet behind the other. 

Even at that distance they looked big, and very, very 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 57 

white. Clearly, they were heading for Bird Mountain. 
We planned to meet them wherever they struck the pre- 
cipitous side of the mountain ahead of us, and at once 
began our stalk. 

From the basin which contained the little two-acre 
tarn, the rocky wall of Bird Mountain rose almost per- 
pendicularly for about eight hundred feet. As we were 
passing between the lake and the cliff, we heard bits of 
loose rock clattering down. 

"Just look yonder!" said Mr. Phillips, with much 
fervor. 

Close at hand, and well within fair rifle-shot, were 
four goats climbing the wall ; and two more were at the 
top, looking down as if deeply interested. The climbers 
had been caught napping, and being afraid to retreat 
either to right or left, they had elected to seek safety by 
climbing straight up! It was a glorious opportunity to 
see goats climb in a difficult place, and forthwith we 
halted and watched as long as the event lasted, utterly 
oblivious of our two big billies. Our binoculars brought 
them down to us wonderfully well, and we saw them as 
much in detail as if we had been looking a hundred feet 
with the unaided eye. 

The wall was a little rough, but the angle of it 
seemed not more than 10 degrees from perpendicular. 
The footholds were merely narrow edges of rock, and 
knobs the size of a man's fist. Each goat went up in a 
generally straight course, climbing slowly and carefully 
all the while. Each one chose its own course, and paid 
no attention to those that had gone before. The eyes 



58 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

looked ahead to select the route, and the front hoofs skil- 
fully sought for footholds. It seemed as if the powerful 
front legs performed three-fourths of the work, reach- 
ing up until a good foothold was secured, then lifting 
the heavy body by main strength, while the hindlegs 
" also ran." It seemed that the chief function of the 
hind limbs was to keep what the forelegs won. As an 
exhibition of strength of limb, combined with sure- 
footedness and nerve, it was marvellous, no less. 

Often a goat would reach toward one side for a new 
foothold, find none, then rear up and pivot on its hind- 
feet, with its neck and stomach pressed against the wall, 
over to the other side. Occasionally a goat would be 
obliged to edge off five or ten feet to one side in order 
to scramble on up. From first to last, no goat slipped 
and no rocks gave way under their feet, although nu- 
merous bits of loose slide-rock were disturbed and sent 
rattling down. 

It was a most inspiring sight, and we watched it with 
breathless interest. In about ten minutes the four goats 
had by sheer strength and skill climbed about two hun- 
dred feet of the most precipitous portion of the cliff, and 
reached easy going. After that they went on up twice 
as rapidly as before, and soon passed over the summit, 
out of our sight. Then we compared notes. 

Mr. Phillips and I are of the opinion that nothing 
could have induced mountain sheep to have made that 
appalling climb, either in the presence of danger or 
otherwise. Since that day we have found that there are 
many mountain hunters who believe that as a straight- 




Weighing Mountain Goat No. i, by Sections 

The two goats were first seen on the thinly timbered ridge in the middle distance. 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 59 

away cliff-climber, the goat does things that are impos- 
sible to sheep. 

As soon as the goat-climbing exhibition had ended, 
we hurried on across the basin, and up the side of Ridge 
No. 2. This ridge bore a thin sprinkling of low spruces, 
a little fallen timber, much purple fireweed and some 
good grass. As seen at a little distance, it was a purple 
ridge. The western end of it snugged up against the 
mountain, and it was there that we met our two big billy 
goats. They had climbed nearly to the top of our ridge, 
close up to the mountain, and when we first sighted them 
they were beginning to feed upon a lace-leaved anemone 
(Pulsatilla occidentalis) , at the edge of their newly 
found pasture. We worked toward them, behind a small 
clump of half-dead spruces, and finally halted to wait 
for them to come within range. 

After years of waiting, Rocky Mountain goats, at 
last\ How amazingly white and soft they look; and how 
big they are! The high shoulder hump, the big, round 
barrel of the body, and the knee-breeches on the legs 
make the bulk of the animal seem enormous. The white- 
ness of " the driven snow," of cotton and of paper seem 
by no means to surpass the incomparable white of those 
soft, fluffy-coated animals as they appear in a setting of 
hard, gray limestone, rugged slide-rock and dark-green 
vegetation. They impressed me as being the whitest liv- 
ing objects I ever beheld, and far larger than I had ex- 
pected to find them. In reality, their color had the 
effect of magnifying their size; for they looked as big 
as two-year-old buffaloes. 



60 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Of course only Mr. Phillips and I carried rifles; 
and we agreed that the left man should take the left 
animal. 

" It's a hundred and fifty yards!" said Mack Nor- 
boe, in a hoarse whisper. 

My goat was grazing behind the trunk of a fallen 
tree, which shielded his entire body. I waited, and 
waited; and there he stood, with his head down, and 
calmly cropped until I became wildly impatient. I 
think he stood in one spot for five minutes, feeding upon 
Pulsatilla. 

" Why don't you shoot? " queried Phillips, in wonder. 

" I can't! My goat's hiding behind a tree." 

" Well, fire when you're ready, Gridley, and I'll 
shoot when you do ! " 

It must have been five minutes, but it seemed like 
twenty-five, before that goat began to feel a thrill of life 
along his keel, and move forward. The annoying sus- 
pense had actually made me unsteady; besides which, my 
Savage was a new one, and unchristened. Later on I 
found that the sights were not right for me, and that 
my first shooting was very poor. 

At last my goat stood forth, in full view, — white, 
immaculate, high of hump, low of head, big and bulky. 
I fired for the vitals behind shoulder. 

"You've overshot!" exclaimed Norboe, and 

"Bang!" said Mr. Phillips's Winchester. 

Neither of us brought down our goat at the first fire! 

I fired again, holding much lower, and the goat 
reared up a foot, Mr. Phillips fired again, whereupon 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 61 

his goat fell over like a sack of oats, and went rolling 
down the hill. My goat turned to run, and as he did so 
I sent two more shots after him. Then he disappeared 
behind some rocks. Mack, John and I ran forward, to 
keep him in sight, and fire more shots if necessary. But 
no goat was to be seen. 

" He can't get away!" said Norboe, reassuringly. 

" He's dead\ " said I, by way of an outrageous bluff. 
"You'll find him down on the slide-rock!" But in- 
wardly I was torn by doubts. 

We hurried down the steep incline, and presently 
came to the top of a naked wall of rock. Below that was 
a wide expanse of slide-rock. 

" Thar he is ! " cried Norboe. " Away down yonder, 
out on the slide-rock, dead as a wedge." 

From where he stood when I fired, the goat had run 
back about two hundred feet, where he fell dead, and 
then began to roll. We traced him by a copious stream 
of blood on the rocks. He fell down the rock wall, for 
a hundred feet, in a slanting direction, and , u hen — to my 
great astonishment — he rolled two hundred feet farther 
(by measurement) on that ragged, jagged slide-rock be- 
fore he fetched up against a particularly large chunk of 
stone, and stopped. We expected to find his horns 
broken, but they were quite uninjured. The most dam- 
age had been inflicted upon his nose, which was badly 
cut and bruised. The bullet that ended his life (my sec- 
ond shot) went squarely through the valves of his heart; 
but I regret to add that one thigh-bone had been broken 
by another shot, as he ran from me. 



62 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Mr. Phillips's goat behaved better than mine. It 
rolled down the grassy slope, and lodged on a treacher- 
ous little shelf of earth that overhung the very brink 
of the precipice. One step into that innocent-look- 
ing fringe of green juniper bushes meant death on the 
slide-rock below; and it made me nervous to see Mack 
and Charlie stand there while they skinned the ani- 
mal. 

As soon as possible we found the only practicable 
route down the rock wall, and scrambled down. The 
others say that I slid down the last twenty feet; but that 
is quite immaterial. I reached the goat a few paces in 
advance of the others, and thought to divert my follow- 
ers by reciting a celebrated quotation beginning, " To a 
hunter, the moment of triumph," etc. As I laid my 
hand upon the goat's hairy side and said my little piece, 
I heard a deadly " click." 

" Got him! " cried Mr. Phillips; and then three men 
and a dog laughed loud and derisively. Since seeing the 
picture I have altered that quotation, to this : "To a 
hunter, the moment of humiliation is when he first sees 
his idiotic smile on a surreptitious plate." It is inserted 
solely to oblige Mr. Phillips, as evidence of the occasion 
when he got ahead of me. 

The others declared that the goat was " a big one, 
though not the very biggest they ever grow." Forthwith 
we measured him; and in taking his height we shoved 
his foreleg up until the elbow came to the position it 
occupies under the standing, living animal. The meas- 
urements were as follows: 




''The Moment of Triumph " — Caught Unawares 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 



63 



ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT 



Male, six years old. 



Oreamnos montanus 

Killed September 8, 
British Columbia 



Standing height at shoulder 

Length, nose to root of tail 

Length of tail vertebrae 

Girth behind foreleg 

Girth around abdomen 

Girth of neck behind ears (unskinned) 

Circumference of forearm, skinned 

Width of chest . 

Length of horn on curve . 

Spread of horns at tips 

Circumference of horn at base 

Circumference of front hoof 

Circumference of rear hoof 

Base of ear to end of nostrils 

Front corner of eye to rear corner nostril opening 

Widest spread of ears, tip to tip 



905, near the Bull River, 



Inches 
38 
59 25 

3-5° 
55 
58 
18 

11.25 
14 

9-75 

5 

5.60 

10.50 

7-75 
10.50 

7 
15 



Total weight of animal by scales, allowing 8 lbs. for blood lost 258 lbs. 

The black and naked glands in the skin behind the 
horn were on that date small, and inconspicuous; but 
they stood on edge, with the naked face of each closely 
pressed against the base of the horn in front of it. 

On another occasion I shot a thin old goat that stood 
forty-two inches high at the shoulders, and Mr. Phillips 
shot another that weighed two hundred and seventy- 
six pounds. After we had thoroughly dissected my goat, 
weighed it, examined the contents of its stomach, and 
saved a good sample of its food for close examination at 
camp, we tied up the hindquarters, head and pelt, and 
set out for camp. 



64 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

And thus ended our first day in the actual hunting 
of mountain goats, in the course of which we saw a total 
of forty-two animals. The stalking, killing and dissect- 
ing of our two goats was very interesting, but the greatest 
event of the day was our opportunity to watch those five 
goats climb an almost perpendicular cliff. 



CHAPTER VI 

ON BIRD MOUNTAIN : PHOTOGRAPHING MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

A Mountain Cyclorama — The Continental Divide — Phillips Peak — A 
Land Unmapped and Unmeasured — Mountain Altitudes along Elk 
River — Statement by Geologist McEvoy — Mountain Sheep Afoot — 
Photographing Two Sheep on the Goat Rocks — Sheep and Goats 
Seen at the Same Moment. 

ON BIRD MOUNTAIN 

We reserved for the fourth day of our stay at Goat 
Pass a treat which was like dessert after meat. We 
climbed to a mountain-top for a general survey of our 
domain. 

Of the region in which we were, Phillips Peak is 
the highest mountain ; but its northern and western faces 
are unscalable, and its southern slope too far away. Near 
at hand, and excellent as a lookout, was the bald crest 
of Bird Mountain, and to it we climbed, on a glorious 
afternoon of alternating sunshine and cloud. 

The top of Bald Mountain, beside our camp, con- 
sists of fine, decomposed shale, and the goat-trail over it 
is wide and deep. Stepping from its soft side to the 
steep slope of Bird Mountain is like going from an ash- 
pile to a hill of hair mattresses. The zone between 
timber-line and summit is thickly carpeted with a soft, 

springy, mosslike ground-plant called mountain avens 

65 



66 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

(Dryas octopetala), which to tired feet is most soothing 
and restful. In places the surface of the slope forms a 
long series of level benches a yard wide and five or six 
feet long, each one generously cushioned with this odd 
plant. 

Climbing a mountain over such footing as that is like 
exploring a wilderness in a Pullman car. But mark the 
contrast. From this zone of living carpet we climbed 
upon the terminal cap of the mountain, a huge mound 
of broken, sharp-edged rock, ragged, jagged, and barren 
of all vegetable life. It was the remains of a prehistoric 
peak, which foot by foot had remorselessly been torn 
down by wind and sun, frost and rain, until its last pin- 
nacle had been laid low. The whole mountain-top was 
a mass of clean rock — carboniferous limestone the color 
of a postal card, — that looked as if it had just come 
from a quarry, suitably broken for rubble-masonry 
foundations. 

The view from that rocky summit disclosed a mag- 
nificent mountain-cyclorama. In every direction, to the 
uttermost limit of vision, there rose and fell a bewilder- 
ing succession of saw-tooth mountains, deep valleys and 
far-distant peaks. The level mountain-plateau feature 
was totally absent. Nowhere was there visible a level 
spot large enough for a foot-ball field. It was moun- 
tains, mountains, everywhere, a labyrinth of steeps, a be- 
wildering maze of summits, valleys, precipices, basins 
and passes. 

Looking eastward over the northern spurs of Phil- 
lips Peak, across the valley of Elk River and beyond 



ON BIRD MOUNTAIN 67 

Sheep Mountain, we saw, about thirty miles away, a 
long line of lofty snow-clad peaks, much higher than 
any of the intervening summits. They marked the crest 
of the great Continental Divide, and the boundary be- 
tween British Columbia and Alberta. Our distance from 
the United States boundary was about seventy miles. 
South-eastward, and very near at hand, rose the sharp 
cone of Phillips Peak, the culmination and hub of every- 
thing in the region round about. From its precipitous 
sides spring at least five small mountain-chains, which 
radiate like the spokes of a wheel. Mr. Phillips's fine 
photograph of his namesake renders a feeble word- 
description quite unnecessary. 

Although the northern and western faces of the upper 
five hundred feet of the peak are so appallingly steep 
that only a mountain goat could scale them, we found 
later on that the southern face is apparently accessible. 
I longed to stand on that summit, and with two months 
in the mountains I would gladly have made the attempt 
to do so ; but as matters stood, the many interesting things 
zoological that lay before us quite crowded out the idea 
of a well-considered attempt to make the climb during 
that trip. On his next visit Mr. Phillips will undoubt- 
edly write his name on the top of his peak. 

The moral uplift, and the corresponding ego depres- 
sion, of such a mountain-cyclorama as circles around the 
summit of Bird Mountain cannot adequately be por- 
trayed by me in words. I never before felt quite so 
puny or so wholly insignificant as then. I have seen 
other mountains in plenty, but nowhere else have I felt 



68 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

so overwhelmingly impressed as by that particular two 
thousand square miles of heaving mountain-billows and 
deep-plunging valleys in view from Bird Mountain. 
And think what it must be from the top of Phillips Peak, 
on a clear day in September! 

Down to this date, the region north and north-west 
of Michel, for a radius of perhaps fifty miles, has never 
been touched by aneroid or surveyor's chain. We can 
give no heights nor distances with mechanical accuracy. 
Above Michel there is not a datum point of any kind. 
Naturally, however, we were much interested in the 
heights of the mountain summits in the region we vis- 
ited, between the Elk and Bull Rivers. Our estimates 
of the height of Phillips Peak, and other points in the 
mountains surrounding it, were based on the following 
memoranda which were kindly supplied by Mr. James 
McEvoy, Geologist of the Crow's Nest Pass Coal Com- 
pany: — 

" I have not the exact figures for the elevation of the 
Elk River at Wild-Cat Charlie's ranch, but it must be 
very close to 3,900 feet above sea-level." 

" The elevations of the mountains near Fernie on the 
east side of the river are about 7,000 feet. These moun- 
tains are of cretaceous coal-bearing rocks. On the west 
side of the Elk River at Fernie the mountains are com- 
posed of Carboniferous and Devonian limestone, and 
quartzites, reaching elevations of from 9,000 to 10,000 
feet. The average height of the summits would be about 
9,200 feet. These summits stand about four miles back 
from the river. Lower hills and spurs of these come 




<^< s 



Oh 



ON BIRD MOUNTAIN 69 

closer to the river, and will average about 7,000 feet 
elevation." 

" Farther up the Elk River, on the east side, in the 
neighborhood of Sparwood, the elevations are the same 
as near Fernie. On the west side, however, the moun- 
tains reach a higher elevation, probably 10,500 feet above 
the sea, and the distance of the summits from the Elk 
River is increased to about ten miles. North of the 
mouth of Michel Creek I cannot give you any close fig- 
ures for the elevation. The valley of the river for the 
most part is occupied by a narrow band of cretaceous 
rocks, and the mountains on either side, at least the 
higher ones, are composed of Carboniferous and De- 
vonian. On the west side of the river, from what I could 
see of the mountains, they seem to increase in elevation 
as you go northward, and on the east side the lower 
hills, which are composed of cretaceous rocks, seem to 
dwindle into insignificance." 

Judging from the facts stated above by Mr. McEvoy, 
we estimated the height of Phillips Peak at about 10,000 
feet, and the average elevation of timber-line at 8,500 
feet. We think that the goats we found and shot high 
up on the south-western side of the peak were feeding 
at a height of about 9,000 feet. 

Even on the rugged and forbidding summit of Bird 
Mountain, we found bird life. While Mr. Phillips was 
busily manoeuvring for mountain photographs, stagger- 
ing over the cruel rocks, camera in hand, a flock of 
willow ptarmigans flew up almost from under his feet, 
crying " cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck." Their snow-white 



7° 



CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



wings and tails flashed and fluttered for a hundred yards, 
then dropped among the stones. Instantly the mountain 
views were forgotten, and there began a long series of 
manoeuvres to photograph the birds. Mack Norboe was 
detailed to herd the birds, and hold them from stamped- 
ing while the camera man worked within close range. 

Shot after shot was made, sometimes at fifteen feet, 
and at least ten times the birds flew because they were 
too closely pressed. The difficulty lay in the bad light, 
and the inability of the camera to differentiate the bodies 
of the birds from the stones. The pictures were not 
successful, and in lieu of them Mr. Phillips offers a 
photograph of a single female ptarmigan, in summer 
plumage, herded by Mr. G. N. Monro, at a distance of 
about five feet. 

PHOTOGRAPHING MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

I shall always remember the date, — September n, — 
because that date once was the wedding-day of a Lady 
whom I know. 

We had decided to leave Goat Pass on that day, 
move southward about ten miles, and make a new camp 
in the picturesque valley of Avalanche Creek. In order 
to lose no sportsman's opportunity, it was decided that 
Mr. Phillips, Charlie, and I should go ahead on foot, 
hunting by the way, and that the others should follow 
on with the pack-train, as soon as it could be made ready. 

For the second time in my hunting experience, a 
strange coincidence was brought about by the desire of 
a brother sportsman to show me the exact spot whereon 



PHOTOGRAPHING MOUNTAIN SHEEP 71 

a strange thing had happened to him. As we shoul- 
dered our rifles and climbed the hill south of our tents, 
Mr. Phillips said, " Now, Director, if you will come 
with me, I will show you where I corralled those goats 
and photographed them, the day we arrived here." I 
had previously expressed a desire to examine the spot, 
in order to see where the goats had stood at bay and 
unwillingly leaped down. 

We soon topped the crest of the ridge, and started 
down the long and steep western slope which constitutes 
the Bull River side of the divide. We were just below 
timber-line, and the mountain-side was thinly covered 
with stunted white spruces, half of them dead. Far 
below us lay a deep, round basin, like a gigantic wash- 
bowl set between the peaks. The bottom of this basin 
was half covered with a beautiful growth of dark-green 
timber, into which the growth upon our mountain-side 
climbed down and merged. 

In going down a mountain, I think the distance al- 
ways is greater than one expects. Mr. Phillips led us 
down, down, and still farther down, and steeper all the 
while, until the slope seemed interminable; and then we 
reached the top of a rock bluff which cropped out and 
ran along the mountain-side from south to north. 

" There," said he, pausing at last. " It was right here 
that Kaiser rounded up those goats for me, at the top of 
this wall. You see, if it hadn't been for that perpen- 
dicular drop of eight feet, the band would have gone on 
down, immediately. Do you see that dead tree? Well, 
they bunched up behind that, with Kaiser on that side, 



72 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

me on this side, and the eight-foot drop below. They 
didn't like to take that jump, — probably because of the 
kids. Well, Kaiser held them from getting away on his 
side, and I exposed on them all the films I had, right 
from this old dead stub. I leaned against it until it 
cracked, and I feared it might go over with me." 

" And what did the goats do, finally? " 

" At last the old ones got their courage up, and gin- 
gerly jumped off; and the kids had to follow suit. The 
nannies and yearlings landed on their feet, and their 
momentum carried them on, slipping and sliding head- 
long down the rest of the way [about fifty feet]. You 
see, the rest of it is not quite perpendicular, and they 
slid down very well, of course holding back with their 
feet wherever the rock was rough." 

" How about the kid that fell? " 

" Poor little beggar, he was really hurt. When he 
jumped from here, he landed on his nose, and gave a 
bleat of pain. And what was worse, he couldn't recover 
himself entirely, but went on, half tumbling and half 
sliding, until he reached the bottom. It made his mouth 
bleed, and must have hurt him cruelly. I felt awfully 
sorry for him." 

Mr. Phillips had barely finished his story, when 
Charlie Smith, who had been closely scanning the thick, 
green timber of the basin, suddenly exclaimed, 

" Something's coming! Something's coming this 
way, — on a dead run ! " 

"What is it, Charlie?" 

" I think it's a bunch of deer." 



PHOTOGRAPHING MOUNTAIN SHEEP 73 

" Or an old silver-tip, — eh, Charlie?" cried Mr. 
Phillips. 

" No ; it's no silver-tip." 

We started in a mad scramble along the mountain- 
side, and before ten paces had been covered each man 
had thrown a loaded cartridge into the barrel of his 
rifle. We had not moved more than fifty paces from 
the goat rocks when we saw two brown-gray animals 
scurrying nimbly and swiftly along the tree-covered 
mountain-side, almost on our contour line, and coming 
straight toward us. Exclamations flew all about. 

" Here they come ! " " Sheep ! " " Mountain sheep ! " 

Mechanically we threw our rifles into position, but 
Charlie cried out sharply, 

"Don't shoot, men! Don't shoot! They're both 
ewes! " 

On they came, headed straight for us, and the com- 
bined nimbleness and strength with which they ran was 
beautiful to see. They carried their heads well up, ran 
close together, and their speed was astonishing. They 
seemed to sweep over the ground as easily as a hawk flies. 

They did not see us until they were within about a 
hundred feet, and then in a graceful curve they swerved 
off sharply downhill, and flew for safety to the rocky 
wall below. Then they disappeared. As they passed 
near us, we saw that the one in the lead was a full- 
grown ewe, and the other a two-year-old ram. 

As soon as we could recover from our astonishment, 
and get our thoughts once more in motion, we naturally 
concluded that the sheep had kept on running, and soon 






74 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

would be a mile away. No one dreamed of seeing them 
again. But suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, we 
heard, 

" Ah, woo! woo! woo!" 

It was the voice of Kaiser, only a few yards away, 
coming up from the rocks below. 

"By jove! Kaiser has stopped those sheep on the 
goat rocks ! " 

" We'll photograph 'em, Charlie! Get out your 
camera, quick, and come on!" said Mr. Phillips. 

In two minutes we were peering over the edge of the 
precipice, in an effort to^ locate the subjects. 

" They're right dowrfthere. If one of you go down 
there, and the other this way, you'll get them right be- 
tween your two cameras ! " 

" This is good enough for me! " said Charlie, swing- 
ing himself over the edge into a perfectly frightful situa- 
tion. " I see them! I see them!" 

Mr. Phillips scrambled down the other way, in a 
most reckless fashion. 

" Now, boys," said No. 3, " for goodness sake, mind 
your footing; and don't fall down that wall for a million 
old pictures! " 

Those two dare-devils went down to positions on that 
precipice that I would not have ventured with a camera 
for any pictures, heads or horns ever taken, or that ever 
will be taken. If empty-handed, it would not have been 
quite so bad ; but to see them " monkeying around " on 
the face of a treacherous precipice, handicapped with 
cameras, relying solely upon their feet to hold them 




Copyright, 1905, by John M. Phillips. 



Young Mountain Sheep Ram 

Thotographed September nth, 1905. 



PHOTOGRAPHING MOUNTAIN SHEEP 75 

upon a few bumps and edges of rock, with Sure Death 
below, was about all that my nerves could endure. I 
felt like shouting at them constantly, to be careful, and 
then more careful still, — for I have no desire to camp 
with a Tragedy; but beyond a few mild admonitions, I 
held my peace. 

Leaving my rifle above, I crept down behind Mr. 
Phillips's position, — at a very easy spot, — until I could 
see the tableau on the wall. 

The sheep occupied a comfortable ledge, and the 
most of the time were aggravatingly concealed from Mr. 
Phillips by an angle of the wall. They were many feet 
below Charlie's best position, and although he saw them 
very plainly, the images his camera got of them were 
too small to represent much value. 

Mr. Phillips made several exposures, but in reality 
had not even one fair chance at a sheep in full view. 
His best pictures were made when the young ram was 
looking at him around the angle of rock which usually 
concealed it. The photograph may well be entitled, 
" On the Alert," for it shows a sheep as wary and wide- 
awake as it is possible for one to be. There were mo- 
ments when that ram seemed to be all eyes. A number 
of times he craned his neck around the rock, and stared 
hard at us to see whether we were coming nearer. 

After the lapse of about ten minutes, the sheep de- 
cided that they must be going. Without more ado, they 
lightly sprang from step to step, straight away from Mr. 
Phillips and me, rapidly descending all the while. The 
Goat Rocks were soon left far behind, and the last we 



76 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

saw of the photographed mountain sheep was their dull- 
white rump-patches flitting away northward, through the 
dead timber and up the mountain-side, a mile away. 

May they live long, and prosper. 

Some one has said, much too easily, that mountain 
sheep and mountain goats never inhabit the same local- 
ity at the same time. 

As we looked for the last time at the running sheep, 
and then mechanically glanced at the summit of the 
mountain-side up which they were bounding fast and 
free, we saw once mor the band of five goats which for 
days had been loafing on that isolated peak. That was 
the band which had not received word of our baneful 
presence. 



CHAPTER VII 

A GREAT DAY WITH GOATS 

Goats Far Up — The Climb, and its Difficulties — Aft Elusive Pair — 
Ten Big Billies at Hand — Observations of an Hol.. — Four Goats 
Killed, and Utilized — The Tallest Goat, and the Heaviest — Rolling 
Carcasses — Down Avalanche Creek to a Beautiful Camp. 

This day, also, was the eleventh of September, — 
after the incident of the mountain sheep on the Camera 
Rocks. 

Mr. Phillips, Charlie Smith and I descended the 
steep side of Goat Pass, crossed the basin and slowly 
climbed the grassy divide that separates it from the 
source of Avalanche Creek. When half way down the 
southern side of that divide, we looked far up the side 
of Phillips Peak, and saw two big old billy goats of shoot- 
able size. They were well above timber-line, lying 
where a cloud-land meadow was suddenly chopped off 
at a ragged precipice. The way up to them was long, 
and very steep. 

" That's a long climb, Director," said Mr. Phillips ; 
u but there are no bad rocks." 

I said that I could make it, in time, — as compared 
with eternity, — if the goats would wait for me. 

"Oh, they'll wait! We'll find 'em there, all right," 
said Charlie, confidently. So we started. 

77 



78 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

As nearly as I can estimate, we climbed more than 
a mile, at an angle that for the upper half of the dis- 
tance was about 30. degrees, — a very steep ascent. At 
first our way up led through green timber, over smooth 
ground that was carpeted with needles of spruce and 
pine. That was comparatively easy, — no more difficult, 
in fact, than climbing the stairs of four Washington 
monuments set one upon another. 

At climbing steep mountains, Mr. Phillips, Charlie 
Smith and the two Norboes are perfect fiends. They 
are thin, tough and long-winded, and being each of them 
fully forty pounds under my weight, I made no pretence 
at trying to keep up with them. As it is in an English 
workshop, the slowest workman set the pace. 

In hard climbing, almost every Atlantic-coast man 
perspires freely, and is very extravagant in the use of air. 
It frequently happened that when half way up a high 
mountain, my lungs consumed the air so rapidly that a 
vacuum was created around me, and I would have to 
stop and wait for a new supply of oxygen to blow along. 
My legs behaved much better than my lungs, and to their 
credit be it said that they never stopped work until my 
lungs ran out of steam. 

As I toiled up that long slope, I thought of a funny 
little engine that I saw in Borneo, pulling cars over an 
absurd wooden railway that ran from the bank of the 
Sadong River to the coal-mines. It would run about a 
mile at a very good clip, then suddenly cease puffing, 
and stop. Old Walters, the superintendent, said: 

" There's only one thing ails that bally engine. 



A GREAT DAY WITH GOATS 79 

The bloomin' little thing can't make steam fast 
enough! " 

I was like that engine. I couldn't " keep steam " ; 
and whenever my lungs became a perfect vacuum, I had 
to stop and rest, and collect air. Considering the fact 
that there was game above us, I thought my comrades 
were very considerate in permitting me to set the pace. 
Now had some one glared at me with the look of a 
hungry cannibal, and hissed between his teeth, " Step 
lively! " it would have made me feel quite at home. 

In due time we left the green timber behind us, and 
started up the last quarter of the climb. There we found 
stunted spruces growing like scraggy brush, three feet 
high, gnarled and twisted by the elements, and enfeebled 
by the stony soil on which they bravely tried to grow. 
Only the bravest of trees could even rear their heads on 
that appalling steep, — scorched by the sun, rasped by the 
wind, drenched by the rains and frozen by the snow. 
But after a hundred yards or so, even the dwarf spruces 
gave up the struggle. Beyond them, up to our chosen 
point, the mountain-roof was smooth and bare, except 
for a sprinkle of fine, flat slide-rock that was very treach- 
erous stuff to climb over. 

"Let me take your rifle, Director!" said Charlie, 
kindly. 

" No, thank you. I'll carry it up, or stay down. But 
you may keep behind me if you will, and catch me if I 
start to roll ! " 

On steep slopes, such as that was, my companions had 
solemnly warned me not to fall backward and start roll- 



80 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

ing; for a rolling man gathers no moss. A man bowling 
helplessly down a mountain-side at an angle of 30 de- 
grees quickly acquires a momentum which spells death. 
Often have I looked down a horribly steep stretch, and 
tried to imagine what I would feel, and think, were I 
to overbalance backward, and go bounding down. A 
few hours later we saw a goat carcass take a fright- 
ful roll down a slope not nearly so steep as where we 
climbed up, and several times it leaped six feet into 
the air. 

To keep out of the sight of the goats it was necessary 
for us to bear well toward our left; and this brought us 
close to the edge of the precipice, where the mountain- 
side was chopped off. In view of the loose stones under 
foot, I felt like edging more to the right; for the twin 
chances of a roll down and a fall over began to abrade 
my nerves. Mr. Phillips and Charlie climbed along so 
close to the drop that I found myself wondering which 
of them would be the first to slip and go over. 

" Keep well over this way, Director, or the goats may 
wind you! " said Charlie, anxiously. 

"That's all right, Charlie; he's winded now!" said 
John. 

I said we would rest on that; and before I knew the 
danger, Mr. Phillips had taken a picture of me, resting, 
and smiling a most idiotic smile. 

At last we reached the pinnacle which we had se- 
lected when we first sighted our game. As nearly as we 
could estimate, afterward, by figuring up known eleva- 
tions, we were at a height of about nine thousand feet, 



A GREAT DAY WITH GOATS 81 

and though not the highest, it was the dizziest point I 
ever trod. Except when we looked ahead, we seemed 
to be fairly suspended in mid-air! To look down under 
one's elbow was to look into miles of dizzy, bottomless 
space. 

The steep slope had led us up to the sharp point of 
a crag that stuck up like the end of a man's thumb, and 
terminated in a crest as sharp as the comb of a house- 
roof. Directly in front, and also on the left, was a sheer 
drop. From the right, the ragged edge of the wall ran 
on up, to the base of Phillips Peak. Beyond our perch, 
twelve feet away, there yawned a great basin-abyss, and 
on beyond that rocky gulf rose a five-hundred-foot wall 
at the base of the Peak. A little to the right of our posi- 
tion another ragged pinnacle thrust its sharp apex a few 
feet higher than ours, and eventually caused me much 
trouble in securing my first shot. 

We reached the top of our crag, and peered over its 
highest rocks just in time to see our two goats quietly 
walk behind a ragged point of rock farther up the wall, 
and disappear. They were only a hundred and fifty 
yards distant; but they had not learned of our existence, 
and were not in the least alarmed. Naturally, we ex- 
pected them to saunter back into view, for we felt quite 
sure they did not mean to climb down that wall to the 
bottom of the basin. So we lay flat upon the slope, rifles 
in hand, and waited, momentarily expecting the finish. 
They were due to cross a grassy slope between two crags, 
not more than forty feet wide, and if not fired at within 
about ten seconds of their reappearance, they would be 



82 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

lost behind the rocks! The chance was not nearly so 
good as it looked. 

But minutes passed, and no goats returned. It be- 
came evident that the dawdling pair had lain down 
behind the sheltering crag, for a siesta in the sun. We 
composed ourselves to await their pleasure, and in our 
first breath of opportunity, looked off south-easterly, over 
the meadow whereon the two goats had been feeding. 
And then we saw a sight of sights. 

Rising into view out of a little depression on the far- 
ther side of the meadow, lazily sauntering along, there 
came ten big, snow-white billy goats ! They were head- 
ing straight toward us, and there was not a nanny, nor a 
kid, nor even a young billy in the bunch. The air was 
clear; the sun was shining brightly, the meadow was like 
dark olive-brown plush, — and how grandly those big, 
pure-white creatures did loom up ! When first seen they 
were about four hundred yards away, but our glasses 
made the distance seem only one-third of that. 

For more than an hour we lay flat on our pinnacle, 
and watched those goats. No one thought of time. It 
was a chance of a lifetime. My companions were pro- 
foundly surprised by the size of the collection; for pre- 
vious to that moment, no member of our party ever had 
seen more than four big male goats in one bunch. 

The band before us was at the very top of a sky- 
meadow of unusual luxuriance, which climbed up out of 
the valley on our right, and ran on up to the comb of 
rock that came down from Phillips Peak. In area the 
meadow was five hundred yards wide, and half a mile 




The Sky Pasture of the Thirteen "Billy" Goats 

Elevation, about 9,000 feet. The goats occupied the center of the picture, but appear only as white specks. 
The hunters lay on the top of a pinnacle like that in the foreground. 




Taking the First Shot 

The end of "Old Two-Teeth." Guide Smith lies within six feet of the brink of a precipice. 



A GREAT DAY WITH GOATS 83 

long. Afterward, when we walked over it, we found it 
was free from stones, but full of broad steps, and covered 
with a dense, greenish-purple matting of ground verdure 
that was as soft to the foot as the thickest pile carpet. 
The main body of this verdure is a moss-like plant called 
mountain avens, closely related to cinquefoil, and known 
botanically as Dryas octopetala. It has a very pretty 
leaf measuring about iV by ^ inches, with finely serrate 
edges. In September a mass of it contains a mixture of 
harmonious colors, — olive-green, brown, gray and pur- 
ple. On this the goats were feeding. This plant is very 
common in those mountains above timber-line, especially 
on southern slopes ; but it demands a bit of ground almost 
exclusively for itself, and thrives best when alone. 

Along with this there grew a moss-like saxifrage 
{Saxifraga austromontana) , which to any one not a 
botanist seems to be straight moss. It grows in cheerful 
little clumps of bright green, and whenever it is found 
on a mountain-pasture, one is pleased to meet it. 

I record these notes here, because our ten goats had 
been in no hurry. They were more than deliberate; they 
were almost stagnant. In an hour, the farthest that any 
one of them moved was about one hundred yards, and 
the most of them accomplished even less than that. They 
were already so well fed that they merely minced at the 
green things around them. Evidently they had fed to 
satiety in the morning hours, before we reached them. 

As they straggled forward, they covered about two 
acres of ground. Each one seemed steeped and sodden 
in laziness. When out grazing, our giant tortoises move 



84 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

faster than they did on that lazy afternoon. When the 
leader of this band of weary Willies reached the geo- 
graphical centre of the sky-meadow, about two hundred 
yards from us, he decided to take a sun-bath, on the most 
luxurious basis possible to him. Slowly he focussed his 
mind upon a level bench of earth, about four feet wide. 
It contained an old goat-bed, of loose earth, and upon 
this he lay down, with his back uphill. 

At this point, however, he took a sudden resolution. 
After about a minute of reflection, he decided that the 
head of his bed was too high and too humpy; so, bracing 
himself back with his right foreleg, like an ancient Ro- 
man senator at a feast, he set his left leg in motion and 
flung out from under his breast a quantity of earth. The 
loose soil rose in a black shower, two feet high, and the 
big hoof flung it several feet down the hill. After about 
a dozen rakes, he settled down to bask in the warm sun- 
shine, and blink at the scenery of Avalanche Valley. 

Five minutes later, a little higher up the slope, an- 
other goat did the same thing; and eventually two or 
three others laid down. One, however, deliberately sat 
down on his haunches, dog-fashion, with his back uphill. 
For fully a quarter of an hour he sat there in profile, 
slowly turning his head from side to side, and gazing at 
the scenery while the wind blew through his whiskers. 

So far as I could determine, no sentinel was posted. 
There was no leader, and no individual seemed particu- 
larly on the alert for enemies. One and all, they felt 
perfectly secure. 

In observing those goats one fact became very notice- 



A GREAT DAY WITH GOATS 85 

able. At a little distance, their legs looked very straight 
and stick-like, devoid of all semblance of gracefulness 
and of leaping power. The animals were very white and 
immaculate, — as were all the goats that we saw, — and 
they stood out with the sharpness of clean snow-patches 
on dark rock. Nature may have known about the much 
overworked principle of " protective coloration " when 
she fashioned the mountain goat, but if so, she was 
guilty of cruelty to goats in clothing this creature with 
pelage which, in the most comfortable season for hunt- 
ing, renders it visible for three miles or more. Even 
the helpless kidling is as white as cotton, and a grand 
mark for eagles. 

That those goats should look so stiff and genuinely 
ungraceful on their legs, gave me a distinct feeling of 
disappointment. From that moment I gave up all hope 
of ever seeing a goat perform any feats requiring either 
speed or leaping powers; for we saw that of those short, 
thick legs, — nearly as straight as four Indian clubs, — 
nothing is to be expected save power in lifting and slid- 
ing, and rocklike steadfastness. In all the two hundred 
and thirty-nine goats that we saw, we observed nothing 
to disprove the conclusive evidence of that day regard- 
ing the physical powers of the mountain goat. 

While we watched the band of mountain loafers, still 
another old billy goat, making No. 13, appeared across 
the rock basin far to our left. From the top of the 
northern ridge, he set out to walk across the wide rock 
wall that formed the western face of Phillips Peak. 
From where we were the wall seemed almost smooth, but 



86 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

to the goat it must have looked otherwise. Choosing a 
narrow, light-gray line of stratification that extended 
across the entire width of the wall, the solitary animal 
set out on its promenade. The distance to be traversed 
to reach the uppermost point of our sky-pasture was 
about fifteen hundred feet, and the contour line chosen 
was about four hundred feet above our position. The 
incident was like a curtain-raiser to a tragic play. 

That goat's walk was a very tame performance. The 
animal plodded steadily along, never faster, never slower, 
but still with a purposeful air, like a postman delivering 
mail. For a mountain goat, not pursued or frightened, 
it was a rapid walk, probably three miles an hour. Its 
legs swung to and fro with the regularity and steadiness 
of four pendulums, and I think they never once paused. 
The animal held to that one line of stratification, until 
near the end of its promenade. There a great mass of 
rock had broken away from the face of the cliff, and the 
goat was forced to climb down about fifty feet, then up 
again, to regain its chosen route. A few minutes later 
its ledge ran out upon the apex of the sky-meadow. 
There Billy paused for a moment, to look about him; 
then he picked out a soft spot, precisely where the steep 
slope of the meadow ended against the rocky peak, and 
lay down to rest. 

Up to that time, Mr. Phillips and I had killed only 
one goat each, and as we lay there we had time to de- 
cide upon the future. He resolved to kill one fine goat 
as a gift to the Carnegie Museum, and I wished two 
more for my own purposes. We decided that at a total 



A GREAT DAY WITH GOATS 87 

of three goats each, — two less than our lawful right, — 
we would draw the line, and kill no more. 

The first shot at the pair of invisible goats was to be 
mine; and as already suggested, the circumstances were 
like those surrounding a brief moving target in a shoot- 
ing-gallery. Before us were two rocky crag-points, and 
behind the one on the left, the animals lay hidden for 
fully an hour. Between the two crags the V-shaped 
spot of the meadow, across which I knew my goat would 
walk or run, looked very small. If he moved a yard too 
far, the right-hand crag would hide him from me until 
he would be three hundred yards away. I was compelled 
to keep my rifle constantly ready, and one eye to the 
front, in order to see my goat in time to get a shot at 
him while he crossed that forty feet of ground. 

And after all, I came ever so near to making a fail- 
ure of my vigil. I was so absorbed in watching that 
unprecedented band of billies that before I knew it, the 
two goats were in the centre of the V-shaped stage, and 
moving at a good gait across it. Horrors! 

Hurriedly I exclaimed to Mr. Phillips, " There they 
are!" took a hurried aim at the tallest goat, and just as 
his head was going out of sight, let go. He flinched 
upward at the shoulders, started forward at a trot, and 
instantly disappeared from my view. 

The instant my rifle cracked, Mr. Phillips said, 
imperatively, 

" Don't move! Don't make a sound, and those goats 
will stay right where they are." 

Instantly we " froze." All the goats sprang up, and 



88 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

stood at attention. All looked fixedly in our direction, 
but the distant eleven were like ourselves, — frozen into 
statues. In that band not a muscle moved for fully three 
minutes. 

Finally the goats decided that the noise they had 
heard was nothing at which to be alarmed. One by one 
their heads began to move, and in five minutes their 
fright was over. Some went on feeding, but three or 
four of the band decided that they would saunter down 
our way and investigate that noise. 

But what of my goat? 

John slid over to my left, to look as far as possible 
behind the intercepting crag. Finally he said, 

" He's done for! He's lying out there, dead." 

As soon as possible I looked at him ; and sure enough, 
he lay stretched upon the grass, back uphill, and appar- 
ently very dead. The other goat had gone on and joined 
the ten. 

The investigating committee came walking down 
toward us with a briskness which soon brought them 
within rifle-shot; and then Mr. Phillips picked out his 
Carnegie Museum goat and opened fire, at a range of 
about three hundred yards. The first shot went high, 
but at the next the goat came down, hit behind the shoul- 
der. This greatly alarmed all the other goats, but they 
were so confused that three of them came down toward 
us at a fast trot. At two hundred yards I picked out 
one, and fired. At my third shot, it fell, but presently 
scrambled up, ran for the edge of the precipice and 
dropped over out of sight. It landed, mortally wounded, 



A GREAT DAY WITH GOATS 89 

on some ragged rocks about fifty feet down, and to end 
its troubles a shot from the edge quickly finished it. 

Mr. Phillips killed his first goat, and before the 
bunch got away, broke the leg of another. This also got 
over the edge of the precipice, and had to be finished up 
from the edge. 

But a strange thing remains to be told. 

By the time Mr. Phillips and I had each fired about 
two shots of the last round, in the course of which we 
ran well over to the right in order to command the field, 
to our blank amazement my first goat, — the dead one! — 
staggered to his feet, and started off toward the edge of 
the precipice. It was most uncanny to see a dead animal 
thus come to life! 

" Look, Director," cried Charlie Smith, " your first 
goat's come to life! Kill him again! Kill him again, 
quick! " 

I did so; and after the second killing he remained 
dead. I regret to say that in my haste to get those goats 
measured, skinned, and weighed before night, I was so 
absorbed that I forgot to observe closely where my first 
shot struck the goat that had to be killed twice. I think 
however, that it went through his liver and other organs 
without touching the vital portions of the lungs. 

My first goat was the tallest one of the six we killed, 
on that trip, but not the heaviest. He was a real patri- 
arch, and decidedly on the downhill side of life. He 
was so old that he had but two incisor teeth remaining, 
and they were so loose they were almost useless. He 
was thin in flesh, and his pelage was not up to the mark 



9 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

in length. But in height he was tall, for he stood forty- 
two inches at the shoulders, with the foreleg pushed up 
where it belongs in a standing animal. 

Mr. Phillips's Carnegie Museum goat was the heavi- 
est one shot on that trip, its gross weight being two hun- 
dred and seventy-six pounds. 

Charlie decided to roll the skinned carcass of my 
goat down the mountain, if possible within rifle-shot of 
the highest point of green timber, in the hope that a 
grizzly might find it, and thereby furnish a shot. He 
cut off the legs at the knees, and started the body rolling 
on the sky-pasture, end over end. It went like a wheel, 
whirling down at a terrific rate, sometimes jumping fifty 
feet. It went fully a quarter of a mile before it reached 
a small basin, and stopped. The other carcass, also, was 
rolled down. It went sidewise, like a bag of grain, and 
did not roll quite as far as the other. 

By the time we had finished our work on the goats, — 
no trifling task, — night was fast approaching, and leav- 
ing all the heads, skins and meat for the morrow, we 
started for our new camp, five miles away. 

We went down the meadow (thank goodness!), and 
soon struck the green timber ; and then we went on down, 
down, and still farther down, always at thirty degrees, 
until it seemed to me we never would stop going down, 
never reach the bottom and the trail. But everything 
earthly has an end. At the end of a very long stretch of 
plunging and sliding, we reached Avalanche Creek, and 
drank deeply of the icy-cold water for which we had so 
long been athirst. 



A GREAT DAY WITH GOATS 91 

After three miles of travel down the creek, over slide- 
rock, through green timber, yellow willows, more green 
timber and some down timber, we heard the cheerful 
whack of Huddleston's axe, and saw on tree-trunk and 
bough the ruddy glow of the new camp-fire. 

The new camp was pitched in one of the most fas- 
cinating spots I ever camped within. The three tents 
stood at the southern edge of a fine, open grove of giant 
spruces that gave us good shelter on rainy days. Under- 
neath the trees there was no underbrush, and the ground 
was deeply carpeted with dry needles. Grand moun- 
tains rose on either hand, practically from our camp- 
fire, and for our front view a fine valley opened south- 
ward for six miles, until its lower end was closed by the 
splendid mass of Roth Mountain and Glacier. Close at 
hand was a glorious pool of ice-water, and firewood " to 
burn." Yes, there was one other feature, of great mo- 
ment, — abundant grass for our horses, in the open 
meadow in front of the tents. 

To crown all these luxuries, Mr. Phillips announced 
that, according to mountain customs already established, 
and precedents fully set, that camp would then and there 
be named in my honor, — " Camp Hornaday." What 
more could any sportsman possibly desire? 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 

A Mountain Goat's Paradise — General Character of the Animal — Its 
Place in Nature — Not an "Antelope" — Description — Distribution — 
Food — Sleeping- Places — Accidents in Snow-Slides — Swimming — 
Stupid or Not Stupid — Courage — A Philosophic Animal — Affection 
— Fighting Powers — A Goat Kills a Grizzly — Bear-Shy Goats — 
The Tragedy of the Self-Trapped Goats. 

" On dizzy ledge of mountain wall, above the timber-line, 
I hear the riven slide-rock fall toward the stunted pine. 
Upon the paths I tread secure no foot dares follow me, 
For I am master of the crags, and march above the scree." 

— The Cragmaster. 

Of the thirty days spent by us in the home of the 
mountain goat, two only were devoted to hunting goats 
to shoot them. Scarcely a day passed without at least 
one flock of goats in sight. We saw two hundred and 
thirty-nine individuals, challenging all repeaters, and 
carefully eliminating those seen a second or third time. 
It was because we shot little that we saw much. 

The high country between the Elk and the Bull 
Rivers is indeed a mountain goat's paradise, and what I 
there saw of that strange creature gave me an entirely 
new set of impressions regarding its character and habits. 
We studied goats alive, we photographed them, shot 

9* 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 93 

them, measured, weighed and ate them. Finally, we 
brought back with us five living specimens; and as I 
became really acquainted with this creature, its stock 
gradually rose to par. 

In its form, the mountain goat is the most pictu- 
resque and droll-looking of all our large game ani- 
mals. In some respects it is the bravest and hardiest of 
our hoofed animals, and the only one that is practically 
devoid of fear. 

I am tempted to believe that of the few men who 
have hunted this strange animal, not many have taken 
time to become thoroughly acquainted with it, or to for- 
mulate a careful estimate of its character as revealed 
in its native mountains. Many writers have called it 
stupid, and very few have recognized it as an unrivalled 
mountaineer. 

It is folly to attempt to compare any animal with 
the Himalayan tahr, the markhor, ibex or chamois until 
the comparer has seen and studied them in their homes. 
It is my belief, however, that no animal, hoofed or 
clawed, can surpass the climbing feats of the mountain 
goat. Certainly there is no American quadruped, not 
even the bold and hardy mountain sheep, which will 
with the utmost indifference climb an eighty-degree 
precipice, or jog across the face of a five-hundred-foot 
wall on a footing so narrow and uncertain that the 
strongest glass cannot detect it. I have never seen a 
mountain sheep take such desperate chances on the rocks 
as any goat will essay as serenely as a boulevardier 
promenades along a ten-foot sidewalk. 



94 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Once while bear-hunting at Lake Josephine with 
Charlie Smith, we came to a particularly high, long and 
smooth precipice. The rock wall was nearly half a mile 
long, and I think at least six hundred feet high, with a 
hundred feet of very steep slide-rock at its foot. It 
curved around a basin, like the wall of a gigantic Colos- 
seum. A big and shaggy billy goat elected to walk across 
the face of that appalling wall, about half-way from bot- 
tom to top, and as we slowly marched past far below, we 
watched him. 

He was so high up that he felt no fear of us, and on 
the dizzy course that he elected to take, he looked like 
a mechanical toy pegging along. In that clear air, 
however, our glasses brought him down to us exceed- 
ingly well. 

As is always the case when upon rocks, the firmness 
with which each hoof was planted, — to avoid slips, and 
to detect loose rocks, — gave the animal a very stiff gait. 
His steps were long, as regular as the tick of a clock, 
and not for one second did the animal hesitate regard- 
ing his course. His gait was as steady as if he were 
walking along a smooth road, and the directness of his 
course was remarkable. Occasionally he paused to look 
down and scrutinize us, but after each inspection he 
jogged on as indifferently as before. I am sure no 
mountain sheep, nor any other American animal, ever 
would attempt to go over that appalling course. It was 
a sight worth coming far to see. 

How could the goat have known that a practicable 
route lay before him? There must have been a stratum 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 95 

of rock, harder than that above it, which had disinte- 
grated more slowly than the rest of the wall, and left a 
projecting rim; but if so, our glasses failed to show it. 
The spectacle we saw was of a big goat briskly prome- 
nading on nothing, straight across the face of a bare wall. 
We watched him with bated breath, as one watches a 
steeple-jack who is repairing a finial; and for my part, 
I would not have shot him for a hundred dollars. To 
have killed him as he traced out that dizzy path would 
have been murder, no less ; and think of the unforgetable 
horror of his fall through space upon that jagged slide- 
rock! 

Among naturalists, a good deal has been said about 
the inappropriateness of calling this animal a " goat." 
Some have laid stress upon its antelope-like characters, 
and some have seriously proposed, and even used, the 
name " goat antelope." If the mountain goat has about 
him anything that is particularly like the typical ante- 
lopes, it must be very deep down in his anatomy, for 
thus far it never has been pointed out. Think of an 
antelope with a form like a pygmy bison, carrying its 
head lower than its shoulders! Certainly the resem- 
blance alleged is not found in his massive hoofs, his short 
cannon bone, his six-inch tail, his thick and postlike 
legs, or his two humps. The strange glands behind his 
horns are absolutely unique. His shoulder hump is like 
that of the European bison, but the hair-hump on his 
hindquarters is not reproduced on any other animal. His 
hairy coat is as unlike that of all antelopes now living 
as could possibly be imagined. His huge, india-rubber 



96 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

hoof resembles that of an antelope about as much as the 
hoof of a cow resembles that of a deer, but no more. 
This creature may not be a twin brother to Capra hircus 
— the first known goat; but at the same time, it is at least 
a million years from being an " antelope," of any sort. 
In fact, its build is far heavier than that of the other 
members of the two subfamilies of goats, to say nothing 
of the long-necked, slender-limbed and agile antelopes. 
A real crag-climbing antelope would indeed be a zoolog- 
ical novelty. 

It is sometimes said that this animal is not a " goat " 
because it does not belong to the genus Capra, a group 
of animals restricted to the Old World. But there are 
a number of goats that do not belong to that genus, just 
as there are many deer that are not found in the genus 
Cervus. The word " goat " is a family name, the same 
as " deer." Shall we quarrel with the name " deer " as 
applied to our mule deer, or white-tailed deer, because 
they are outside the pale of Cervus? And yet, such a 
departure would be quite as well justified as are the 
objections to " goat " for the white cragmaster of the 
Rockies. If there are any writers who wish to call 
Oreamnos an " antelope," let them do so; but the Reader 
is advised that in adhering to the name " mountain goat " 
he will be sufficiently correct. 

In order to set forth at a glance the mountain goat's 
place in nature, and also its nearest relatives, this dia- 
gram is offered: 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 97 



Q 

w 

o 
o 
« 



w 
fa 



1 «3 9 

L5 o 

O fa 

p 

fa 
Q 

O 



c 

C 
a 



o 

o 



a> 

H 



Subfamily 
Caprine : 
The Long- 
horned Goats. 



Subfamily 
Rupicaprinje : 

The Short- 
horned Goats. 



Genus 
First-known Goats . . . Capra 

Persia, Greece, Palestine, etc. 
Ibexes Capra 

Asia, Europe, N-E Africa. 
Turs i Capra 

Spain, Caucasus Mountains. 
Markhors Capra 

Himalayas, north-west of India. 

Tahrs (usually placed in Cap- 

rinae) .... Hemitragus 

India, north and south; Arabia. 
Serows, or Forest Goats . Nemorbcedus 

North-east Asia and Japan. 
Gorals Cemas 

North India, Tibet and China. 
Rocky Mountain Goat . . Oreamnos 

North-western North America. 
Chamois .... Rupicapra 

Southern Europe. 
Takin Budorcas 

Southern China. 



The classification of both these subfamilies was 
founded upon the genus Capra, as first represented by 
the goats of Greece, Persia and Asia Minor. Later on, 
to avoid the multiplication of genera, the ibexes, mar- 
khors and others were taken into that genus. The goats 
of the Subfamily Capriruz are partly distinguished by 
flattened horns of considerable length, which sometimes 
curve upward in remarkable lines. From all these forms 
the Rocky Mountain goat differs materially, just as the 
prong-horned antelope differs from African antelopes. 

The members of the Subfamily Capriruz are so much 
alike that they stand in one group, like a three-peaked 
island rising out of a sea. In the Subfamily Rupicaprincz 



98 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

there are six solitary islets, one each for the tahrs, serows, 
gorals, mountain goat, chamois and takin, — all of them 
short-horned goats, no more, no less. 

In its physical aspect the mountain goat is both strik- 
ing and peculiar. In September it is brilliantly white, 
and its coat is as immaculate as a new fur cloak fresh 
from the hands of the furrier. From nose to tail, it is 
newly combed, and without spot or stain. It seems as 
white as newly fallen snow, but in direct comparison 
with snow there is a faint, cream-like tint. It is the only 
wild hoofed animal in the world (s. f. a. k.) which is 
pure white all the year round; for in spring and summer 
the white mountain sheep stains his coat very badly. 

The pelage of the mountain goat is the finest and 
softest, and also the warmest, to be found on any North 
American hoofed animal except the musk-ox. To wind, 
dry cold and snow it is seemingly impervious, but there 
are times and seasons when the rain-coat is imperfect, and 
too short to shed rain. In September, the rain-coat is 
not fully developed, and the fine pelage which covers 
the sides is almost as soft as down. As winter approaches, 
the fine hair of the under coat seems to stop growing, 
but the coarser and straighter hair of the rain-coat keeps 
on until it has attained such luxuriant length that the 
animal takes on a shaggy appearance. Late in Novem- 
ber this reaches its full length. Even in September, the 
beard and knee-breeches are of good length, and these, 
with the queerly rounded crests, on the shoulders and on 
the hindquarters, contain the only hair of the whole coat 
that is coarse and harsh. 



Front Foot of a Mountain Goat 



Hind Foot of a Mountain Goat 




The Function of a Mountain Goat's Rear Dew-Claws 

They are used as a brake in descending inclines that are very steep and smooth. Drawn as seen in use, in 

the Zoological Park, New York. 



L.0FC. 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 99 

About six goats out of every seven are pure white, 
but the coat of the seventh contains in its tail, and along 
the pelvic crest, a few scattering, dark-brown hairs. This 
is noticeable on kids in their first year, as well as on 
adult animals. Occasionally the tail of a goat contains 
so many dark hairs that the normal color is really 
changed; but it should be remembered that these occa- 
sional occurrences of brown hairs do not indicate any 
specific differences. 

The goat is very stockily built, — for stability and 
strength rather than for agility and speed. The long 
spinal processes of his dorsal vertebrae give him a hump 
somewhat like that of a bison ; and like a bison he carries 
his head low, and has short, thick legs, terminating in 
big hoofs. His body is big and full, and his sides stick 
out- with plenty. He can carry his head above the line of 
his neck and shoulders, but he seldom does so save when 
frightened, or looking up. 

His horns are jet black, round, very smooth for the 
terminal half, and sharp as skewers. When the goat 
fights, he gets close up to his assailant's forequarters, and 
with a powerful thrust diagonally upward, punctures his 
enemy's abdomen. In attacking, the movements of the 
goat are exceedingly jerky and spasmodic, advancing and 
whirling away again with the quick jumps of the mod- 
ern prize-fighter. The horns are not long, usually rang- 
ing in length from 9 to 11 inches by $}4 inches in basal 
circumference. The longest pair on record is owned by 
Mr. Clive Phillips-Wolley, of Victoria, B. C, and its 
length is eleven and one-half inches. 



ioo CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

The gland behind the horn of the mountain goat 
is largest during September and October, and subsides 
somewhat after the close of the mating season. If it 
serves any useful purpose, that purpose is as yet un- 
known. On September nth, each gland is about the 
size of a small black-walnut, flattened on the naked sur- 
face which touches the horn, and round within the skin. 
Instead of lying flat upon the skull, as shown by many 
taxidermists, the naked surface stands upon its edge. It 
is decidedly concave at the centre, black in color, smooth, 
and practically odorless. It fits up closely against the 
base of the horn, and of the naked portion only a narrow 
edge is visible. We found no oil, nor even moisture, 
exuding. When cut into sections, the interior appears 
to be calloused flesh, like the palm of the human hand. 
On the date mentioned above, the naked portion of the 
gland of a large male goat was one and one-half inches 
in diameter, and at the centre there was a pronounced 
depression. Of the six goats killed by us, the horns of 
none showed evidence of any disintegrating action from 
these glands. Yet one of my specimens was very old. 
The female goat possesses these glands, but they are pro- 
portionately smaller than those of males of the same age. 
On the living animal they are not conspicuous. 

The eyes of the adult goat are not " jet black." The 
iris is straw-color, a little darker than Naples yellow, 
and the pupil is a broad, blunt-ended ellipse. J. Kanof- 
sky, of New York, makes them correctly. The edge of 
the eyelid, and the naked portions of the nostrils and lips, 
are black. The eyes of a young kid are so dark they 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 101 

appear to be all black, but when nine months old the iris 
assumes its true color. 

The hoofs are like big, twin masses of india-rubber, 
— a ball of soft rubber, encased in a strong shell of hard 
rubber. It is chiefly the soft rubber which enables this 
strange animal to climb as it does. The shell of hard 
rubber is thin, and around the front half of the hoof it 
forms an edge which may be sharp or blunt, according 
to the wear upon it. On the front hoofs, this edge always 
is more worn than on the rear hoofs, because the former 
do the hardest work. The bottom of a goat's hoof is 
very different from that of a mountain sheep, the former 
being concave near the toe, and convex at the heel, while 
that of the sheep is a hollow cup, with sharp edges. 

I was rather pleased at finding out the trick by 
which a goat descends a dangerously steep incline. Over 
smooth rock that stands at an angle of forty-five degrees, 
— on which no man can stand, much less move about, — 
a mountain sheep goes down pell-mell, slipping, sliding 
and plunging almost helplessly until it reaches some kind 
of a stopping-place. 

Not so the goat. I once induced a captive goat to 
descend a plank inclined at forty-five degrees, and he 
tobogganed on his rear hoofs, with his monstrous dew- 
claws pressed hard upon the wood, and his hindlegs held 
quite stiff. His hocks were within three inches of the 
wood and his rubber-like dew-claws acted as first-class 
brakes. His front hoofs guided his course, and took 
advantage of every rough spot, but the animal did not 
slide upon them, as he did upon the posterior pair. 



102 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

The front feet possess a surprising amount of grasp- 
ing power. It is natural for a goat leaping high up to 
hook his front feet over any available edge, and hold fast 
until his rear hoofs can find a hold, and push up. In' 
the Zoological Park, one of our goats had a great fancy 
for climbing a tree-box that protected a small red-cedar 
tree, and perching for minutes upon the tops of the four 
posts, seven feet from the ground. The posts were cov- 
ered with wire netting of half-inch mesh. The goat 
leaped upon the side of this, dug the points of his hoofs 
against the rough surface, and kept digging until he 
could reach the top of a post with one foot, and hook it 
over. After that the rest was easy, and it was always a 
droll sight to see that creature so poised, calmly survey- 
ing the landscape. 

The long, straight beard of a male goat always im- 
parts to the animal an uncanny, and even human-like 
appearance. When he sits down, dog-fashion, and turns 
his head first one way and then the other while he gazes 
admiringly upon the scenery before him, his appearance 
is strongly suggestive of patriarchal humanity. 

Although the true abiding-place of the mountain 
goat is from timber-line to the tops of the summit 
divides, and the precipices which buttress the peaks, it 
wanders elsewhere with a degree of erratic freedom that 
in a cliff-dweller is remarkable. It seems very strange 
for white goats to range far down into the timber, and 
remain there, but they often do so. In 1904 a large 
band of goats, reported at thirty or more, came down to 
Sparwood station on the railway a few miles below 



Bottom of a Mountain Goat's Foot 



Bottom of a Sheep's Foot 




Skeleton of an Adult Male Mountain Goat 

By courtesy of the Field Columbian Museum, Chicago. F. J. V. Skiff, Director. 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 103 

Michel, to visit a salt-lick. At Skaguay, Alaska, goats 
have been killed in the suburbs of the town, only a few 
feet above tide-water. Mr. W. H. Wright says that until 
very recently goats descended every fall from the main 
range of the Rocky Mountains in north-western Mon- 
tana, and crossed the level Flathead Valley, a distance 
of about fifteen miles, to the Mission Mountains, return- 
ing in the spring. 

The known range of the mountain goat extends from 
the Teton Mountains of Wyoming (1892) northward 
along the main range of the Rockies to the latitude of 
Ft. Simpson, 62 °. Northward of that point, we lack in- 
formation, but it is very probable that on the main Rocky 
Mountain range only, but not westward thereof, it will be 
found much farther north than the sixty-second parallel. 

Along the Pacific coast, from Vancouver northward 
to Cook Inlet, the range of this animal in the coast 
mountains is almost continuous. From the great inte- 
rior area of Yukon Territory, from the main chain of the 
Rockies to the coast mountains, the species is totally absent. 

Regarding the eastern limit of the mountain goat, a 
surprising record has come from Mr. M. P. Dunham, 
of Ovando, Montana, a guide and hunter of forty years' 
experience on the trail, who knows this animal very well. 
He states that in 1882 or 1883, he killed two mountain 
goats in the Chalk Buttes on Box Elder Creek, a tribu- 
tary of the Little Missouri, in western North Dakota. 
At first the great distance of this locality (about four 
hundred miles) from the main range of the Rockies 
made this report seem almost incredible, but the record 



io 4 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

comes to me directly from Mr. Dunham, and his stand- 
ing fairly compels belief. Between the Little Missouri 
and the Rockies the great plains are broken by only a 
few small and widely separated groups of mountains, all 
of which rise like islands out of a sea. Mr. George Bird 
Grinnell once received a report of goats having been 
killed by Indians in the Little Snowy mountains, a group 
well out on the Montana plains. 

The map accompanying these notes shows only actual 
occurrences of Oreamnos during the past fifteen years. 
Along the Coast of British Columbia and Alaska, and 
the Stickine and Skeena Rivers, the occurrences reported 
were so numerous that the lines are really continuous. 
Beyond doubt, the goat occurs in many localities not 
marked on the map; but it seems best to be exact, and 
stop short of uncertainties. 

We endeavored to learn something regarding the 
food habits of the goat as displayed on the mountain 
summits of south-eastern British Columbia. To this end, 
I took a sample of the contents of the stomach of my 
first goat, panned it out, and permanently preserved a 
series of specimens. 

First of all, we found that on those mountains, in Sep- 
tember, Oreamnos is not a grazing animal. Of grass we 
found only a few blades. It would seem however, that this 
was due to an autumn caprice, for surely in other seasons, 
and in other localities, this animal must feed upon grass. 

The stomach contained no woody fibre, and nothing 
to indicate a browsing habit, save a few leaves of the 
yellow willow, which grows in the sunshine of open val- 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 105 

leys, or upon slide-ways. In that locality at least, the 
goat is not a September browser. During our whole 
thirty days on his home range, we saw not one twig, nor 
a piece of bark, that had been bitten off by goat or sheep. 

In September, the British Columbian goat is a crop- 
per. He lives by cropping the thick leaves, and stems 
also, of a number of large weedlike plants which grow 
abundantly up to timber-line. Our first two goats were 
shot while feeding upon a lace-leaved anemone or pasque 
flower, called Pulsatilla occidentalis. Its leaves are finely 
cut and lacelike, and one plant furnishes several good 
mouthfuls. It was quite abundant, and the goats were 
fond of it. We found it in fruit, with the peduncle 
elongated into an upright stalk from eight to ten inches 
high, crowned by a head of silky achenes, with long, 
plumose styles, very suggestive of a ripe dandelion. 

Here is the whole array of species that we found in 
my goat's stomach, and matched by plants found grow- 
ing around our camp. The entire mass would have filled 
a peck measure, and it was so slightly masticated that we 
had no great difficulty in recognizing its principal in- 
gredients. My specimens were identified by Dr. D. T. 
MacDougal, as follows: 

Lace-Leaved Anemone Pulsatilla occidentalis 

Mountain Sorrel Otyria digyna. 

Wild Valerian Valeriana. 

Yellow Willow ....... Salix. 

Squaw-Weed Senecio triangularis. 

"Goat-Weed," with flower like candytuft . . Unidentified. 

Mountain-Timothy Phleum alpinum. 

"Wild Pea" Hedysarum. 

Wild Strawberry Unidentifiable. 



RANGE OF THE WHITE MOUNTAIN GOAT, AS IT IS IN 1906, 
EXCEPTING THE TETON MOUNTAINS 



UNITED STATES 

Wyoming: Teton Mountains, 1892 W. H. Wright 

Montana: Big Hole Country, 1899 Samuel C. Pirie 

Granite Country; Mission Range, Flathead 

Reservation W. H. Wright 

St. Mary's Lakes region, 1902 .... A. P. Proctor 

Idaho: Bitter Root Mountains W. H. Wright 

Washington: Silverton, Cascade Mountains, 1892 . . A. P. Proctor 
Conconally, 1884; Slocan Mountains and 

Lake Chelan W.H.Wright 



BRITISH COLUMBIA 



Fernie: 1904 H. W. Herchmer 

Elk River: 1 905 John M. Phillips 

Bull River: 1905 B. T. Van Nostrand 

Spillamachene River: Golden, 1904 Madison Grant 

Clinton: 1905 F. Soues 

Quesnel Forks: 1905 W. Stephenson 

Bakerville (north-east): 1905 James McKern 

Slocan Lake, east, 1888; Similkameen River, 1888; Coqui- 
halla River, 1888; Harrison Lake; Pitt Lake, 
north; Princess Louise Inlet; Bridge River; 
Wauchope (Brewer Creek); Yellowhead 
Pass; Canoe River, 1885; Head of Fraser 
River; Peace River, longitude 125 , latitude 
56 ; Knight Inlet, latitude 51 ; Bute Inlet; 
Dean Channel; Gardiner Canal; Kitimat 
Arm; Skeena River (from Port Essington 
200 miles up); Nass River; Stickine; Iscoot; 
McDame Creek (Dease River); Scheslay 
River; Francis Lake. 

"The Goat is the most widely distributed 
animal in British Columbia, and except the 
black bear is the only animal found through- 
out the length and breadth of the province. 
Apparently it is equally at home in the dry 
belt, and the wet coast belt lying east and 
west of the Cascade Mountains." — Letter 
and map, dated March 12, 1906. 
Big-Horn Hills: Head of Athabasca River, 1902 . . G. O. Shields 
(Eastern slope of Rockies.) 
106 



Warburton Pike 



RANGE OF WHITE MOUNTAIN GOAT.— Continued. 
Asbanola: Similkameen; West Kootenay; Bridge River;" 
Empire Valley; Chilcotin; Knight's Inlet; 
Stickine River, "and a dozen other places 
between Lagan and Wrangel. It is not 
found on Vancouver Island. I believe it 
occurs almost everywhere else.," — 1906. ,, 
Tidewater Inlets : Jervis ; Bute ; Knight's ; Kingcomef 
Khutze and Gardiner, etc. to 6o° north 
latitude. Not on Vancouver Island or 
other islands. 

Atlin: 1906 . " J.Williams 

South Fork of Stickine River: 1905 Samuel C. Pirie 

"Skeena and Nass Rivers, for 200 miles up," from Port 

Essington. ...'... A. G. Hains 

Goat River Mountains: Isaac's Lake (Barkerville) . . James McKern 



Clive Phillips-Wolley 



Francis Kermode 



YUKON TERRITORY 

Not found north of McMillan River 

Not found north of the summit of White Pass, nor near 

Lake Bennett . W. C. McKenzie (Skaguay) 

Main range of Rocky Mountains, from Peace River to lati- 
tude of Fort Simpson 

Lake Francis: (eastward; latitude 6i° 30', longitude 129 ; 
1906). "There are no goats in the Yukon 
Territory on the western slopes of the 
Rocky Mountains, or other interior ranges. 
I know nothing about the eastern slopes. 
Goats occur on the eastern slopes of the 
coast ranges, and some of the spurs. The 
same statement will apply to Alaska." ! 



J. B. Tyrrell 



W. J. McLean 



> Charles Sheldon 



ALASKA 



"Almost anywhere near sea-coast from Washington to] 

Kenai Peninsula." But "rarely found beyond Coast I John W. Worden 
Range " (eastward), 1906. ] 

S kaguay: Glacier Station \ £; L ' A " d ™™ 

(W. C. McKenzie 

Juneau, within 30 miles I. N. Stephenson 

Chilkat River, 45 miles up, 1905 R. A. Gunnison 

Kluane Lake, 1905 W. L. Breeze 

Copper River, 1900, "mountains near mouth" ... D. G. Elliot 

Wrangel Mountains, 1900 (Gerdine); Mt. St. Elias range/ 
near Yakutat, 1899; Controller 
Bay region; between Tanana and 
White Rivers, 1898. 

Knick River, 1901 ' J. Alden Loring 

Kenai Peninsula, 1903 James H. Kidder 

107 



-Alfred H. Brooks 



108 GAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

This is the greatest array of species that I ever found 
in the stomach of one animal. It shows that in choosing 
his food the goat is a broad-minded creature, with a 
versatile and vigorous appetite. No wonder his sides are 
round. It is probable that in spring the goat's bill of 
fare includes many species of plants not in the above 
list, and that throughout the year it varies greatly. In 
spring the flesh of this animal is so strongly flavored by 
the wild onion, then greedily fed upon, that it is quite 
unpalatable; but by September that flavor has totally 
disappeared, and goat's flesh, cooked and seasoned with 
a modicum of intelligence, is then as good as venison of 
the same age. 

In winter, goats sometimes, — but not frequently — 
browse upon the twigs of coniferous trees. Mr. Phillips 
has seen evergreen twigs that have been bitten off for 
food, when the snow lay deep on the mountains; and he 
says that in winter the goats go down into the green 
timber to look for food. 

Judging by what we saw in the Elk River mountains, 
the mountain goat avoids the drifting snows of winter 
by choosing for its sleeping-places the knifelike edges 
of high " hogbacks " between mountain peaks. And yet, 
over those ridges the wind sweeps with a fierceness and 
frigidity which it seems no living creature could long 
withstand. It is doubtful if the big-horn ever lies down 
to rest and to sleep on a hogback over which the wind is 
blowing seventy miles an hour, with a temperature of 
forty degrees below zero; but the goat does this very 
thing. We saw a dozen ridge summits, paved with their 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 109 

droppings, which Norboe and Smith assured us were the 
winter sleeping-places of goats. In winter goats also 
seek food upon the bleak ridges from which the snow is 
continually swept clean by the wind. 

Up to the time we left the mountains (September 
30) the rutting season had not begun. Our guides say 
it does not begin until December 1. The old male goats 
were living quite apart from the herds of females and 
young males, and there was not the slightest sign of 
sexual excitement. The herds were quiet, to the point 
of dulness. The open pastures between timber-line and 
the naked rocks of the summits were covered with food, 
and once below his beloved rocks a goat had only to 
stoop and take. Often we saw goats lie on their pastures, 
motionless for hours, unable to eat more. They loved to 
lie on southern slopes, bathing themselves in the glorious 
sunshine, and blinking away the hours. Whenever a 
herd was sighted at rest, it was safe to count upon its 
remaining there for an hour or two, unless disturbed by 
a hunter. 

Everywhere we went, I watched the slides for evi- 
dences of accidents to goats through being overwhelmed 
by spring avalanches, but saw none. I closely questioned 
Charlie Smith and the Norboe brothers, but none of 
them could recall a single instance of a dead goat in a 
snow-slide. They said the goats are too wary to be 
caught. But there are exceptions. Mr. W. Stephen- 
son writes me from Quesnel Forks, central British 
Columbia, of a goat which was killed in a snow- 
slide in May, 1905, in the mountains east of that 



no CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

town. This is the only record of the kind that ever 
has come to me, but there is one other of a fearfully 
injured goat, which I fully believe was hurt in an 
avalanche. 

Late in the spring of 1902, when Mr. G. O. Shields 
was taking photographs in the Rocky Mountains of 
British Columbia, he found on a small mountain-pasture 
a goat which for several days remained in one spot. At 
last his curiosity was aroused, and on procuring a par- 
ticularly good view of the animal through a powerful 
field-glass, he found that it had been seriously injured 
by some accident. " Its face was badly cut and torn," 
says Mr. Shields, " and a section of its nose some six 
inches long, extending from about the eyes to the tip of 
the nose, was an open sore. There was also a wound in 
one shoulder. I told Mr. Wright, the guide, that I 
thought it would be best to go up and see what the 
trouble was with this animal. 

" He went, and Coleman with him. They easily got 
within fifty yards of the goat, and found that the entire 
upper portion of its face [muzzle] had been torn off, 
and that the nostrils were exposed and bleeding. They 
naturally concluded that as soon as warm weather and 
flies came, the goat would die from the effects of its mis- 
fortune. Accordingly they crawled up, made several 
photographs of the goat in various positions, then killed 
it, in order to put it out of its misery." 

Mr. Shields believes that the carrying away of the 
goat's face was done in some manner by a snow-slide, in 
which the goat's head was held very firmly while either 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM in 

a sharp-edged rock of large size, or a log, passed over it, 
grinding away skin and bone, and laying bare the bottom 
of the nasal passage. 

It seems that when occasion demands it, the moun- 
tain goat can swim very well, and does not hesitate to 
do so. I have already mentioned the spring and fall 
migrations of goats across the valley of the Flathead, as 
observed by Mr. W. H. Wright. In making that jour- 
ney the animals always had to swim the Flathead River. 
Farther north, in Athabasca, Mr. Wright and Mr. 
Shields saw the trails of goats that had crossed one of 
the branches of Athabasca River, by swimming. Beyond 
doubt it would be possible to learn of many instances of 
river-swimming by goats. 

Many authors have written of the " stupidity " of the 
mountain goat; and on that subject I may as well record 
here the conclusions of Mr. Phillips, our guides and the 
writer. 

First, however, let me correct, — for British Colum- 
bia at least, — a trifling error that is rather common in 
recipes for stalking the mountain goat. Some writers 
say, " first get above him," etc. We say, spare yourself 
that trouble ; for it is quite unnecessary. While it is pos- 
sible to scale all sorts of peaks, and climb above the goat, 
he who does so (in British Columbia) will find his hunt- 
ing seriously handicapped by impassable slopes of rock 
that keep him away from the very points from which he 
would fain look below. The best way to hunt goats is 
to stalk them on the level, and shoot them on the square. 
Mr. Phillips says that in all the goat-hunting of which 



ii2 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

he personally knows, only two goats have been shot from 
above. 

Personally I know not how wary goats are in coun- 
tries wherein they have been much hunted; for the goats 
of Elk River actually did not know the significance of 
the report of fire-arms! This is not necessarily stupidity. 
Even wolves are " tame " in the far north, where C. J. 
Jones fought them, and take risks which any southern 
wolf would regard as suicidal. It takes a little time for 
a wild species to learn what it is to be shot, and to flee 
quickly and far from the presence of man. 

I regard the primitive mountain goat as an animal 
to whom fear is almost an unknown sensation. He is 
serenely indifferent to the dangers of crag-climbing and 
ledge-walking, and to him a five-hundred-foot precipice 
is no more than a sidewalk to a domestic goat. So long 
as he has six inches of rough points on which to plant 
his rubber-like hoofs, he considers the route practicable. 
Why, then, he would say, should he be timid about a 
few strange animals which walk upright, but never dare 
to meet him face to face on the walls? Why should he 
jump and tremble because he hears a loud noise, like 
the bang of a big rock falling a hundred feet and ex- 
ploding on the slide-rock? Among men, the peace- 
fully minded gentleman naturally assumes that no 
one will wantonly insult or attack him; therefore 
he regards his fellows with calmness and serenity, un- 
armed. The mountain goat has practically no enemies 
save men and eagles. The grizzly bear knows that 
Oreamnos is not for him, and for good and sufficient 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 113 

reasons the mountain lion and wolf do their hunting far 
below him. 

Truly, the goats we saw at home were unacquainted 
with fear. They have no nerves! With dogs and men 
you can corner a goat on a ledge, and hold him there 
for an hour or two. He will get very angry, and grit 
his teeth, and perhaps kill several of your dogs, but he 
will not get " rattled," and he will neither fall off nor 
leap off to certain death, as any deer surely will do under 
such circumstances. There are some men, and also some 
animals, who do not become panic-stricken, even when 
they are being killed; and of the latter I think the 
mountain goat is one. 

We like a " nervy " man, or a nervy animal, — which 
in common parlance means an individual without nerves! 

Fifty years ago the grizzly bear was an animal which 
knew not fear of any living thing; and then he was Great. 
To-day the grizzly is a quitter. In nine cases out of 
every ten, the moment he sees a man, he runs from him, 
frantically. A cotton-tail rabbit does not turn tail more 
quickly or more thoroughly than he. He is wiser than 
he was; but we don't respect him as much as we did 
fifty years ago. 

The mountain goat seems to have rather dull visual 
powers. We think so because he does not seem to see 
us as soon as we discover him, or at least does not mani- 
fest fear by running from us. But it may be that he 
does see us, as quickly as a deer or sheep, or bear; but 
having only a fraction of their suspicion of man, he does 
not move off until he feels really forced to do so. Small 



1 1 4 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

as its eyes are, a grizzly is very keen-sighted; and I can 
see no reason for believing that the goat is of dull vision 
simply because he is not ever ready to run at the slight- 
est alarm. 

More than once we had positive proof that the 
mountain goat does not take alarm and run from man 
the moment his presence is detected. On the day I 
killed my grizzly bear, Charlie Smith and I rode to 
Goat Pass to inspect our cache of provisions and other 
things, half in the hope of finding a silver-tip in the act 
of robbing us. Besides ourselves and our two horses, the 
dog was with us, and between men, horses and dog there 
certainly was a variety of what Mr. Seton aptly calls 
" man scent." 

When we reached our cache, from which we over- 
looked the head gorge of Goat Creek, we saw a billy 
goat feeding on the fearfully steep declivity which comes 
down from Phillips Peak. 

" That would be our goat, if we wanted him, 
Charlie." 

" You could surely knock him from here," said 
Charlie. " I wonder if he ain't ever going to go! " 

" Can it be that he don't see us? " 

"If he ain't blind he must see us; and unless he's 
got an awful cold in his head, he must smell us, too." 

For fully five minutes, I should think, that goat kept 
on feeding. At last, however, as we were mounting to 
ride on, he left off, and started to climb on up the slope, 
— not exactly in alarm, but in a state of what judges call 
" reasonable doubt." 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 115 

As might be expected of an animal that is born and 
reared amid appalling dangers of many kinds, the moun- 
tain goat is a creature of philosophic mind. Through 
sheer necessity, he is much given to original thinking; 
and like all thoughtful animals, his mental processes and 
his moods and tenses are highly interesting. Watch him 
closely, day after day, and you will soon conclude that 
the term " stupid " does not apply to him. Let us see 
whether, with our slight knowledge of him, we can in a 
small measure put ourselves in his mental place. 

In the first place, Oreamnos has chosen the rugged 
crags at and above timber-line as the ground best calcu- 
lated to enable him to escape from his wild-animal ene- 
mies,— the bears, pumas and wolves. From these his 
rugged heights render him measurably secure. When 
danger threatens, and he climbs up or down to the shel- 
tering arms of the steepest precipice he can find, no wild 
creature without wings dares to follow him. Unfortu- 
nately, however, his evolution did not take into account 
the necessity of adequate provisions for safety from the 
modern rifleman. And how could it? There is no such 
thing as safety for any wild creature, save under man's 
own laws. 

In times of danger the elk, the moose and deer gen- 
erally stampede wildly over the face of Nature, without 
much thought. Usually they are able to run straight 
away from the hunter. To them the great desideratum 
is speed for the first mile. But not so the goat. He 
must find a retreat accessible to him, but inaccessible to 
his pursuer. He must disappear as quickly as possible, 



n6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

but he must also avoid getting into a cul-de-sac from 
which he cannot escape. 

All these requirements make a goat think. He must 
look ahead, and plan out his line of retreat, or come to 
grief. A deer has the quick dash and elan of a cavalry- 
man ; but the goat figures things out carefully, on scien- 
tific principles, like a general of artillery. 

Some hunters of wild goats have called the goat a 
stupid animal, because he does not quickly comprehend 
the deadliness of man. But is that proof that he really 
is stupid? Let us see. 

No mountain hunter will call the mountain sheep a 
stupid animal. In regions wherein the sheep have been 
shot at, and have learned that a " bang " means a rifle, 
and a rifle means a hunter, the big-horn is a very alert 
and wary animal. In such regions the successful chase 
of the mountain sheep demands the qualities that make 
up a first-class sportsman, — endurance, judgment, and 
skill with the rifle. But how is it in countries wherein 
the wild sheep have not been hunted by man, and know 
nothing of white hunters and fire-arms? Ask Mr. Charles 
Sheldon, Mr. Carl Rungius, Mr. James H. Kidder and 
Mr. Thomas D. Leonard about the sheep which they 
found so abundant in the Kenai Peninsula, in the Yukon 
Territory and on the Stickine River. They will tell you 
that the sheep which they hunted did not know the 
meaning of a rifle-shot; that they only partially realized 
the deadliness of man; that when a flock was fired at, 
the sheep threw up their heads, and gazed and hesi- 
tated, until often five shots could be fired at a bunch 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 117 

before it finally realized the danger, and ran out of 
range. 

That was not due to dulness of mind, or stupidity. 
It was due to a lack of information, — ignorance of exist- 
ing facts. 

Take the record of our four days on Goat Pass, 
where we camped literally on the goat's highway be- 
tween two groups of mountains. The first day we saw 
forty-seven goats, all of which saw us ; and three of them 
ran through our camp. On the third day we saw forty- 
two goats, and were seen by all of them. We did not 
fire a shot on those mountains until the third day, when 
we killed two goats. On the fourth day it was remarked 
with surprise that all the goats had " left the country! " 
This was literally true. Word had been passed around 
among the ten or twelve flocks originally living there, 
that there was danger afoot; and as if by magic, one 
hundred and ten of the one hundred and fifteen goats 
we had seen simply vanished! The only bunch that re- 
mained was a flock of five nannies and kids which were 
isolated on a rugged mountain that ran off due west- 
ward from the main chain of peaks on which we were. 
Evidently they did not get the word which alarmed all 
the rest. We had fired our rifles in one spot only, which 
was at the extreme northern end of that goat-infested 
area. Our guides remarked, " We've got to get out of 
here, and look for goats somewhere else, if we want to 
find any more." 

Mr. F. B. Wellman, of Banff, a very observing guide, 
who has seen much of goat and sheep hunting, does not 



n8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

regard the sheep as any more wary and keen-sighted than 
the goat. He has seen large herds of goats post sentinels 
who watched for danger so keenly and intelligently that 
the approach of a hunter within shooting-distance was 
quite impossible. The sentries watch in every direction. 
Mr. Wellman advanced the theory that the goat seems 
easier to stalk than the sheep because the coat of the for- 
mer is so conspicuous that the hunter can see it long 
before it sees him; and it is also easy to keep it in view 
while stalking. On the other hand, all the colors of the 
big-horn match so well with his surroundings that he is 
difficult to locate, and thereby often is enabled to see the 
hunter before the hunter sees him! I think this conclu- 
sion is very reasonable, and entirely correct. 

In my opinion, no animal which can live all the year 
round, and prosper, above timber-line in the British Co- 
lumbian Rockies, can rightly be called stupid. If the 
mountain goat were not a good observer, a good rea- 
soner, and at all times cool and level-headed, he would 
continually be coming to grief. He would be drowned 
by freshets, or carried down by snow-combs and ava- 
lanches, or blown off precipices, or caught napping by 
grizzly bears. But none of those unpleasant things hap- 
pen unto him. 

Excepting the musk-ox, the mountain goat is the 
only North American hoofed animal which does not 
lose its head when brought to bay by dogs or men. If 
you round up a deer, elk, moose or caribou on a narrow 
ledge, or on the edge of a precipice, it will cheerfully 
leap off into eternity in order to escape the terrors of man 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 119 

and dog. Mr. Wellman says that sometimes a wounded 
sheep on the edge of a cliff will throw itself over, but 
that no goat will do this. The latter believes that one 
goat on a ledge is worth two in mid-air. With mar- 
vellous coolness he stands fast, and waits for something 
favorable to turn up. If he can charge the dogs that 
annoy him, and gore them to death, or toss them off into 
space, he will gladly do so ; but if he cannot, he " stands 
pat " on his ledge, grits his teeth and stamps with vexa- 
tion, and says, " Well, what are you going to do about 
it? " Among white hunters, it is not considered either 
fair or sportsman-like to shoot a goat or sheep that has 
been " cornered " on a ledge, unless it is wounded. 

The action of a female goat photographed in August, 
1905, on Ptarmigan Mountain, B. C, by Professor 
Henry F. Osborn, reveals much of goat character, bear- 
ing especially upon courage and affection. On the edge 
of a ragged precipice, which with great care was prac- 
ticable for goats, the old nanny and her four-months-old 
kid were overtaken, and brought to bay. The way down 
to safety was so steep and dangerous that it could be 
taken only with caution and judgment; but if the mother 
had disregarded her offspring, she could instantly have 
found safety for herself by going down where no dog 
could follow her. 

With the dog so close at hand, the mother decided 
that she could not lead the way down, for fear her off- 
spring would be seized before it left the summit. She 
therefore faced the dog, with the kid behind her, and 
several times attempted to charge her tormentor. But 



120 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

the dog was alert, and easily kept out of the way. As 
long as the dog bayed the pair, the mother goat deter- 
minedly but patiently stood her ground. This lasted for 
some minutes. Finally Professor Osborn called off the 
dog, whereupon the mother-goat lost no time in climb- 
ing down the precipice, with her offspring following 
close behind.* 

Excepting the musk-ox and female grizzly bear, 
what other American animal would have taken such 
risks for its young, or would have acted so bravely and 
so sensibly? 

Of course it is to be expected that any wild animal 
will to the best of its ability defend its young against 
the attacks of other animals. In the spring of 1905, Mr. 
Charles L. Smith saw a female goat successfully defend 
her kid from a golden eagle which sought to seize it. 
The goat stood close beside her young, and whenever the 
eagle swooped, and sought to seize the kid, the mother 
reared on her hindlegs, and with her horns made thrust 
after thrust at the eagle. In a short time the eagle aban- 
doned its attempt. 

The mountain goat is not only sublimely courageous 
in climbing, and in traversing precipices, but as occasion 
requires, it is also a bold and effective fighter. Those 
who know the limit of its temper can judge of the risks 
of life and limb which Mr. Phillips ran when he faced 

* A full account of this remarkable experience, written by Professor 
Osborn, and fully illustrated, will be found in the Tenth Annual Report of 
the New York Zoological Society. The Ninth Annual Report, of the same 
series, contains an admirable illustrated paper on " The Mountain Goat," by 
Mr. Madison Grant. 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 121 

an angry " billy " on a two-foot ledge, at a distance of 
six feet or less, in taking a series of photographs of the 
animal. One determined charge, and one fierce upward 
thrust of those sharp horns, would have thrown the dar- 
ing photographer off the ledge to instant death. 

The fighting qualities of this remarkable animal are 
best illustrated by the records of actual occurrences. 
For a number of years Mr. Arthur B. Fenwick has main- 
tained a large ranch about fourteen miles north of Fort 
Steele, British Columbia. Being an ardent sportsman 
and nature-lover he has seen much of the mountain 
goats, sheep, bears and other animals that literally sur- 
round him. In response to an inquiry, Mr. Fenwick 
wrote me as follows: 

" As to the fighting capacity of a full-grown billy 
goat, he will, with a little luck, kill almost anything. 
The story I told Mr. Van Nostrand related to an occur- 
rence on Joseph's Prairie, where Cranbrook now stands. 
A full-grown billy goat happened to stray out there, and 
old Chief Isadore, who was camped there, saw it. He 
and two other Indians thought that with horses, dogs 
and ropes they could catch the animal, alive. I think 
fifteen dogs left the camp for the goat. A little later a 
squaw saw that they were having a bad mix-up, and ran 
out to the Indians with a rifle. One of them shot the 
goat. All but two of the dogs were killed on the spot, 
or died very shortly. It was with the greatest difficulty 
that the Indians saved their horses from getting punct- 
ured by those terrible little horns. 

" I will tell you another fact, which without the ex- 



122 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

planation you would not believe. A goat will sometimes 
kill a full-grown silver-tip bear! I once found a big 
goat, dead, which evidently had been killed by a silver- 
tip, as there were lots of tracks all around, and the goat's 
back was broken. I thought it queer that the bear had 
not taken the goat away and buried it, as usual, so I 
looked around. I found a large silver-tip bear, dead, 
and all bloated up; and when I examined him I found 
that the goat had punched him twice, just back of the 
heart. He had been able to kill the goat, and had then 
gone off and died." 

In the spring of 1905, when Messrs. Chapman and 
White, of Fort Steele, caught for us the five goat kids 
received by me at Fort Steele in October, two of their 
best dogs were killed by goats. Mr. B. T. Van Nostrand, 
of Brooklyn, described the occurrence, as follows: 

" They started after the goats with ten dogs. The 
larger dogs ran up to the old goats, and tried to seize 
them by their heads. Before the dogs could be called 
off, the first two were instantly gored, and hurled over 
a precipice. White said the goats stood their ground, 
and tossed the dogs so quickly they could hardly realize 
what had happened until they saw the dogs in the air, 
bleeding from the wounds made by the horns of the 
goats. When White and Chapman appeared, the goats 
moved off. The remaining dogs were able to separate 
the kids from the rest of the band, and finally they 
caught five." 

It seems that sometimes goats kill each other. 

" Four years ago," continued Mr. Van Nostrand, " I 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 123 

was shooting in about the same locality as that in which 
your goats were caught, and there I witnessed the finish 
of a fight between two large billies. I had shot at a 
mountain sheep ram on the sky-line, and to find out the 
effect of my shot I climbed to the summit. At the top 
I sat down to rest, and look for the ram, and enjoy the 
grandeur of the view. As I sat there motionless, two 
goats came around a corner of rock only about fifty yards 
away from me. They were walking rather fast, and 
whenever the goat in the rear caught up with the one 
before him, he gave it a blow with his head. It did not 
seem to be a vigorous butt, and at first I thought it was 
play. They were making a low, peculiar sound, such 
as I cannot describe in words. 

" In a very short time, one of the goats lay down 
behind a large rock, so that I could see only its head. 
The other goat stood, and looked at the one lying down. 
Just then they saw me, and this seemed to stop the fight, 
for the standing goat began to move away. I fired and 
killed him; but to my surprise the other goat lay still. 
I could not hit him from where I was without spoiling 
his head, so I climbed around to get a better shot. 
Finally I got quite close, and had a good general view 
of him. Then he stood up, took one or two steps, and 
stood still. I then saw that he was bleeding around his 
neck, that one flank was badly torn, and that some of 
his intestines were hanging out until they almost touched 
the ground! He was so far gone he could scarcely stand, 
and to end his troubles quickly, I shot him. 

il That was the only fight to the death that I ever 



124 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

saw among wild animals, and it was done quite differ- 
ently from what I expected. There was no pawing of 
the ground, and no frenzied charging. One goat quietly 
walked up to the other, and gave him a fierce thrust. 
The victorious goat was not even scratched. I presume 
his first thrust was fatal to the victim." 

But there are times when even the icy-nerved goat 
becomes thoroughly frightened. In questioning Mr. 
Phillips on this point he related the following incident: 

" The only time I ever saw a goat really frightened, 
and show fear, was when Charlie Smith and I were 
hunting on the head of Wilson Creek. We had sighted 
a grizzly bear, and were following him up the side of a 
mountain and over the summit. It took us two hours to 
climb a distance that he covered in one. Near the sum- 
mit the bear's trail led us through a little notch, and past 
the base of a pinnacle of bare rock, about two hundred 
feet high, that ran up very much like a cathedral spire. 

" Now it happened that as the bear passed through 
the little notch he frightened an old, long-bearded billy 
goat, who immediately started up the pinnacle as hard 
as he could go, and climbed clear to its summit. And 
there the old fellow stood, or rather hung, in a most 
ridiculous attitude. His front feet were hooked over the 
eastern edge of the point, like a man looking over the 
peak of a steep house-roof, and holding on by his hands. 
His body and hindlegs were well down on the other 
side of the pinnacle, and completely overhung a fright- 
ful precipice. 

" He was so interested in the bear that he paid no 



THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AS WE SAW HIM 125 

attention to us. We talked to him, and tried to attract 
his attention, but he would not even look at us. He had 
the most beautiful set of whiskers that I ever saw on a 
goat, and as the wind blew through them they waved in 
the breeze. Evidently, the old fellow could see the 
bear, — below him, and in front. He moved his head in 
various directions, peering about, twisting his head and 
squinting like a near-sighted man at a variety show. 
Four other goats had taken to the high rocks on account 
of that same bear." 

Mr. Phillips has seen goats climb, without being 
frightened, to the very summits of lofty peaks, and far 
above their food supply, apparently for amusement only. 
He has also seen flocks of goats lie on solitary patches of 
snow in preference to bare earth and rocks. 

Among hunters and guides who live in the mountain 
goat's country, it is a common belief that goats (like 
men) sometimes lose their lives through going upon pre- 
cipitous ledges from which they cannot escape. It is 
difficult to understand how a goat can reach a point on 
the face of a cliff without carefully climbing to it, either 
up or down, or how it can become impossible for him 
to retrace his steps. That such things are possible, how- 
ever, is proven by a tragedy actually witnessed by Mr. 
James Brewster, of Banff. 

Mr. Brewster relates that quite recently, while out 
with a hunting-party in the mountains north-west of 
Banff, they climbed to the top of a rugged mountain, 
and chased a band of goats around its summit. The 
goats went down over the edge of a rock wall which 



i26 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

overhung so much that the animals could not be seen 
from above. Later on, when they descended to their 
camp in the valley, and looked up at the mountain wall, 
they saw their lost goats, five in number, perched far 
aloft, on a narrow ledge. When night descended, the 
goats were still there. 

The next morning, the hunters were surprised at 
finding that during the night the animals had not moved; 
nor did they move during that entire day. Then Mr. 
Brewster and his companions became convinced that the 
goats had trapped themselves, and were unable either to 
go on or retreat. The band consisted of two adult goats 
and three young ones. Naturally it was the older ani- 
mals that led the way into the danger, and it was the 
belief of the party that the adult goats could not retreat 
the way they came because the young ones blocked the 
way, and were unable to go back. It was thought that 
the ledge was so narrow the goats could not turn upon 
it, and the kids were unable to back out. We know that 
a young goat can easily turn on a twelve-inch ledge, pro- 
vided the wall does not overhang; but an overhanging 
wall can make turning impossible. 

Mr. Brewster and his party became so interested in 
the fate of the trapped goats that they remained in that 
camp long enough to witness the end of the tragedy. 
One by one, those poor goats fell from their ledge, and 
were dashed to death on the slide-rock, hundreds of feet 
below. The hunters saw one of them fall; but the most 
of them fell at night. The last one fell on the tenth day 
after they took refuge on the fatal shelf. 



CHAPTER IX 

TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 

One-Eyed Men in the Mountains — A Mountain Savant — A Climb in 
False Notch — Foot and Nerve Exhaustion — A Daring Goat — 'Ex- 
periments — The Component Parts of Mountain-Sides — Tempera- 
ture Record of a Climber — A Great Basin and a Bull Elk — A Tree 
Scarred by a Mountain Ram. 

"Here in this workshop of the Sun, 

Where Nature hews, and chips recoil, 
Note well the work designed, or done ; 
Behold the Mountains at their toil!" 

— The Sun's Workshop. 

The world is full of one-eyed travellers. One of the 
strange things about such mountains as those of British 
Columbia is the wide variation between the impressions 
which they produce upon different people. I know a 
miner and prospector to whom the finest mountain-range 
is merely a place in which to look for signs of ore. 
There are sportsmen who see nothing in mountains save 
what appears over the sights of their rifles. There are 
photographers who see nature only as it is revealed in 
their " finder," " stopped down to aperture No. 32, one- 
twenty-fifth of a second exposure." 

Before me at this moment there lies a book about 
mountains; but it is only a book of heights and depths, 

scaled or to be scaled. Its author was blind to the glories 

127 



128 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

of mountain vegetation, and to the ever-interesting mam- 
mal and bird fauna of the steeps. The works and ways 
of Nature at timber-line held absolutely nothing of spe- 
cial interest to him, save as they furnished things to 
climb over. He was interested in forests only as they 
burned, and their smoke obscured the view of summits 
to be climbed. In a volume of more than four hundred 
pages the author devotes half a page to the flora of a 
magnificent domain of mountains, and three pages to 
their animal life! Really, is it not strange? 

Often when in the tropics I lamented my lack of 
botanical knowledge, but not half so much as I deplored 
it in the Columbian Rockies. To pass over twice in one 
day the uppermost limits of perhaps fifty species of 
plants and trees, and know of them so very little, was at 
times really depressing. Each of the few species which 
I did recognize was as welcome as the face of a friend 
at a crowded reception. 

To me, Charlie Smith was truly a guide, philosophei 
and friend, and at all times a source of intellectual com- 
fort. He loves the mountains so well that no money 
consideration can tempt him to leave them. He loves 
them in storm or in calm, amid the terrors of winter as 
well as the delights of spring, summer and fall. Once 
while resting on a lofty summit, with a magnificent pano- 
rama spread out at our feet, and stretching away to the 
Continental Divide, he said to me: 

" I have had chances to go into business, and in some 
of them I am sure I could have made money. Possibly 
I could have become moderately rich. But what would 



TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 129 

all the money of a millionaire be to me if it took me 
away from the mountains that I love? No amount of 
money in a business office could make up to me what I 
would lose in giving up this country. No rich man 
can get out of his money more satisfaction in life than 
I find in these mountains; and here I mean to stay until 
I die." 

Charlie is a strange, and even remarkable, combina- 
tion. He loves steep mountains like another Whymper, 
and is a very bold and level-headed climber. He loves 
all animal life, and is not only a keen observer, but his 
accuracy in observing is grateful and comforting. He 
loves tree-life and plant-life with the taste of a born 
botanist. He is a fine hunter and trapper, brave, but 
sensibly cautious on the trail, and completely free from 
the boastful and intolerant vein which spoils many a 
good woodsman. Like most of the mountain men whom 
I have known intimately, he is clean-minded and high- 
minded, and as a narrator and describer I have never 
among frontiersmen known his equal. When he tells a 
story, he makes you see it as in a moving picture; and 
he writes with wonderful ease. 

I urged Charlie to write out the fascinating stories 
of adventure and chapters of wild-animal lore that he 
gradually unfolded to me, and offer them to the maga- 
zines which are always on the lookout to discover new 
and fresh springs of literary refreshment. At first he 
felt that he " could not write well enough " ; but as a 
matter of conscience and duty, both to him and the pub- 
lic, I urged him until he took courage, and decided to try. 



i 3 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

The foregoing " appreciation " is in no sense a di- 
gression, for Charlie Smith was far more interesting 
and noteworthy than any of the mountains up which he 
led me. 

Every sportsman knows that the occasions where four 
men can profitably hunt together are few and far be- 
tween. Mr. Phillips usually went out with Mack Nor- 
boe. John Norboe made various special scouting trips 
for the general welfare, and Charlie Smith and I worked 
together. After the great day with goats, on Phillips 
Peak, we devoted our energies to hunting for grizzly 
bears; and in quest of them we went into all sorts of 
places. Immediately after camping in Avalanche Val- 
ley, our first care was to hunt down the valley, through 
the ribbon of green timber, six miles or so straight away 
to the base of Roth Mountain; and although we found 
about a dozen or fifteen rubbing-trees, where bears had 
stood up to scratch their backs, we saw no bears. 

Continuously we watched the open ground of the 
"slides" for bears feeding; and as often as we could 
manage it, we climbed to some new summit, in order to 
view a new basin, new rock walls, more slides, and more 
new country far beyond. In such a region as that is, to 
hunt is to climb; and to climb is usually to go above 
timber-line before you stop. 

I was frequently surprised by the differences between 
mountain sides and summits that one would naturally 
expect to find alike. Take False Notch, for instance, 
about two miles above Camp Hornaday, which came 
about through my initiative. 




Timber Line in Winter 

Mr. Phillips and Guide Smith on snowshoes, carrying their entire outfit. 



TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 131 

One afternoon as Charlie and I were returning from 
several hours of climbing to look at the goat remains on 
Phillips Peak, the trail led across some slide-rock which 
gave us an open view upward toward the west. In an 
evil moment, I saw to the westward a ridge that was 
heavily timbered quite to its summit; and seeing no land 
higher up, I rashly concluded it was a low pass. So 
I said, 

" Charlie, it doesn't look far up to the top of that 
divide. Suppose we climb up, and take a look over the 
other side, toward Bull River." 

Charlie hesitated two or three seconds, looked at the 
sun, then quietly answered, 

" All right. . . . We'll strike up on the right of this 
slide, and have easy going." 

We struck up, and the climb through the green tim- 
ber was all right. But when we reached what I had 
thought was the summit of the divide, behold ! we stood 
at the mouth of a big, bare basin between the two peaks, 
beyond which there rose a roof of the steepest and most 
difficult slide-rock that I found on that trip. We were at 
timber-line, and exactly half-way up to the real summit! 
I felt as if that notch had deliberately deceived me. 

After a brief rest, we crossed the bottom of the basin, 
chose the best line of ascent, and started up. Never 
shall I forget that climb. The mountain was frightfully 
steep, and from basin-bottom to summit, the slope was 
covered with slide-rock of the best possible size to roll 
under a climber's foot, and throw him down. 

" Be very careful of your footing here," said Charlie, 



132 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

very quietly. " Don't make a misstep. A roll down here 
might be pretty serious." 

There was no doubt about it. A genuine fall on that 
treacherous stuff, either backward or sidewise, might 
easily send a man plunging downward so swiftly that 
there would be no stopping short of the bottom. The 
slide-rock was mostly in angular chunks about the size 
of furnace coal, and almost as hard as flint. It reminded 
me of the inch-and-a-half broken trap-rock that we use 
in the Zoological Park in surfacing our roads. Imagine 
the steepest house-roof you ever saw bestrewn with that 
stuff, ready to roll at the touch of a foot, and you will 
know what that slope was like as a place to climb. 

In taking a step upward, the foot had to win a firm 
resting-place on the loose rock before the body's weight 
was thrown upon it; for each step had to be a success. 
The strain on the ankles was really very severe, — and on 
the mind it was equally so. In a party like ours, no one 
wants to be a spoil-sport, and get hurt, tie up the whole 
hunt, and possibly be carried out in a package strapped 
to a horse's back. Accidents are forbidden luxuries! 

I suppose that slope was about six hundred feet long. 
Charlie kindly offered to carry my rifle for me, and even 
insisted upon it; but up to that time I had carried my 
rifle every step of my hunting ways, and I elected to stay 
with it, up or down. 

As we neared the summit, we saw that we were ap- 
proaching a " knife-edge." It was not a level knife- 
edge, either, but sloped sharply, and at one place broke 
down very abruptly for several feet. It was then clear 



TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 133 

that the narrow sky-line was the edge of a precipice, 
that there was no such thing as hunting beyond, and it 
looked as if no one could walk on the knife-edge for 
more than a hundred yards or so. 

Feeling that I had been grossly deceived by that 
notch, I decided to expend no further energy upon it, 
unless something more than the summit were to be 
gained by it. Twenty-five years ago I would have fol- 
lowed Charlie to the last gasp; but as it was, I shame- 
lessly allowed him to climb on up to the top, alone. The 
mental and physical exertion of placing my feet about 
six hundred times in that loose stuff, each time so care- 
fully that my foot would hold without the possibility of 
a slide or a roll, had so completely exhausted both my 
nerves and my ankles that I had neither patience nor 
strength for another useless fifty feet. I learned that a 
man who is reasonably fresh can do climbing that is 
almost impossible to him when his feet and his nerves 
are equally exhausted. It is very trying to climb for an 
hour with a feeling that one false step, one turned ankle 
or one treacherous rock will lead swiftly to a battered 
body and broken bones. 

Charlie climbed on up with the sang-froid of a moun- 
tain goat, and soon stood on the sky-line, looking over. 

" How wide is it up there? " 

"Well, in some places it's three feet; but in one place 
it's nearly twenty." 

" Anything to do on the other side? " 

" No ; I guess not. No good ground, no game in 
sight. There's no use in your coming up here." 



i 3 4 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Climbing down seemed quite as dangerous as climb- 
ing up. In descending dangerous slopes over loose rock, 
I always found myself looking forward to a point of 
altitude low enough that a fall from it would not quite 
kill a man; then to the point that meant not more than 
two broken limbs; then to the one-limb point; to bat- 
tered knees only, and so on to the bottom. With shoe- 
soles less wooden in their stiffness, and with better nails 
in the bottom, I would have felt very differently in those 
mountains. 

Perhaps I should note here a few facts regarding the 
best clothing for a mountain-climber. Naturally, a ten- 
derfoot needs to have all conditions in his favor, but it 
is likely that few succeed in securing a perfect outfit. 
The shoes should be high, to protect and support the 
ankles, but the soles should not be too thick, or inflex- 
ible. The soles should yield somewhat to the rocks ; and 
they must be well studded with sharp-pointed hobnails, 
screwed into the leather. In rough work and plenty of 
it, two pairs of good shoes will last but little more than 
a month. 

The trousers should be knickerbockers of gray mack- 
inaw (wool), and the openings at the knee should be 
six inches long, with buttons, in order that in severe 
climbing they can be opened wide. With these, woollen 
stockings are necessary. Suspenders are absolutely neces- 
sary, for the belt must be worn loose. The outer shirt, 
of gray flannel, should be of medium weight. The neck 
demands a large silk handkerchief, of some dark, neu- 
tral color. 



TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 135 

As we climbed down, a solitary billy goat came over 
the peak in front of us, beyond the basin, and treated us 
to a wonderful performance. From the side of the peak 
a thin shoulder ran out toward the Avalanche Valley. It 
was about three hundred feet high. The " formation " 
stood on edge, quite perpendicular, and there was a band 
of shaly stratification which had weathered a trifle below 
the general surface of the shoulder. I saw a goat appear 
on the crest of it, and start down what looked like a 
pathway of smooth and perpendicular rock. 

" Charlie, just see what that goat is doing! " 

We settled back against the slide-rock, and adjusted 
our glasses. 

"Well! " exclaimed the guide. " He might as well 
be standing on his head! " 

Coolly and deliberately, without any show either of 
haste or hesitation, that goat walked down the place that 
looked perpendicular. Not even once did he make a 
false step, or hesitate. 

Over the worst places he came down two feet at a 
time. He reached down with his forefeet, planted them 
far apart, then slid his hindfeet down between them 
until they too secured a good hold. It looked as if his 
hindquarters rubbed against the cliff; and beyond ques- 
tion, his rear dew-claws and the lowest joints of his hind- 
legs did so. 

Over the lower third of the descent, where the grade 
was less steep, and the pathway offered rougher footing, 
the goat calmly walked down to the bottom, crossed the 
slide-rock and turned off up the basin, toward a patch 



136 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

of grazing-ground. Very soon it passed behind a point 
that jutted out from our ridge, and for a moment dis- 
appeared. 

Cautiously we descended a short distance, and again 
sighted the animal. It was quietly grazing, and not more 
than one hundred and fifty yards away. We sat down, 
and watched him until we were tired ; and then I decided 
to test his ears, his eyesight and his courage. Although 
we were in plain view of him, he paid no attention to us. 

I whistled, faintly at first; but he took no notice. I 
whistled again, loud enough to have startled any deer 
feeding at the same distance, and sent it flying; but still 
no notice. Then I gave three or four very shrill blasts, 
in a manner specially developed in my boyhood. The 
goat raised his head, and looked about with an air of 
curiosity, but stirred not from his position, and mani- 
fested no alarm. I presume he thought that a whistling 
marmot had found out how to whistle with two fingers 
in his mouth. 

So long as we remained motionless, the goat was 
quite indifferent to our presence. When I left off whist- 
ling, he went on feeding. At last we rose quietly, and 
moved on down; and then he decided to be going. I 
said " Hello," rather loudly, but he merely went on at 
a moderately fast walk. When I shouted, he hastened 
perceptibly; and finally, when I yelled at him, he really 
took alarm. But even then he did not leap, and stam- 
pede in a panicky way, as a deer does. He simply trotted 
away as fast as he could, climbed the divide before him 
at its lowest point, and disappeared over its crest. 



TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 137 

When Charlie and I reached the bottom of the basin, 



we examined the goat's pathway, and, as we expected, 
found it not so nearly perpendicular as it looked from in 
front. The angle of it seemed to be about forty-five de- 
grees from perpendicular. The wonder was not that the 
goat managed to descend in safety over a course on which 
a man could not have travelled ten feet, but that it came 
down with such contemptuous indifference and ease. 

I am tempted to make note of one other climb that 
Charlie Smith and I enjoyed together, still in quest of 
new grounds and grizzly bears. To me the wonders of 
it, and the weirdness of it, never will be forgotten while 
I live. 

Around the head of Avalanche Creek there was a 
regular nest of " notches " and " divides," and " passes " 
by courtesy so called. We explored each one of them, 
always climbing, and although we found little killable 
big game, we were so royally entertained by that grand 
picture-book of Nature that we felt richly repaid. From 
first to last I climbed about fifteen mountains in that 
country, and next to the grandeur of the scenery, its most 
striking feature was the marvellous diversity of Nature's 
handiwork. On no two mountains did we find the vege- 
tation, the ground and the rocks really alike; and this 
diversification continued to the very last hour of the 
trip. 

Bear with me a moment, and I will set down, as in 
a catalogue, the salient features of interest that one 
passes through, or over, in the course of one day's climb 
in that Wonderland. I take them all from the notes of 



i 3 8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

the day wherein Charlie and I climbed into the second 
big notch south of Phillips Peak. 

(i) First came the luxuriant, balsamy, sweet-smell- 
ing " green timber " of the valley, which climbed half a 
mile or more up the steep slope. In this the rich earth 
is smooth, and covered deeply with the dry needles of 
Canadian white spruce, jack pine, and balsam. The fine- 
leafed, columnar larches are turning the color of old 
gold, and the leaves of the quaking asp tell their name 
by their incessant quivering. Just then the frost was 
busily painting them Indian red. 

(2) Above the heavy green timber comes the dwarf 
spruces, — which I think must be of a species different 
from the great tree, — and the patches of yellow- willow 
brush. 

(3) There are patches of hard, bare earth, usually 
shaly, and often so hard and smooth they are not only 
uncomfortable, but even dangerous. In freezing weather 
they must be carefully avoided ; for they give no foothold. 

(4) The deep gullies that so often score the moun- 
tain-sides, cut down through decomposing shale, are a 
prominent feature, and in traversing the side of a steep 
mountain in freezing weather they must be crossed with 
the utmost care. At such times, our guides regard them 
as decidedly dangerous. 

(5) Above the brush-belt, often comes the mossy 
pasture-grounds, in steps, like great stairs that have been 
covered with a mosslike carpet of Dryas octopitala 
three inches thick. 

(6) The " slides," or avalanche tracks, are every- 



TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 139 

where present, sometimes bare of trees and bushes, and 
nicely set in grass, and again thinly covered with young 
trees. 

(7) In places are found large patches of fine, loose 
earth, perfectly bare. 

(8) Slide-rock is always to be expected, sometimes 
coming from sources that are visible, and again de- 
scended from goodness knows where. High up, it is 
usually more finely broken than lower down. Near the 
top of a steep divide, or " pass," it is common to find a 
wide belt of bad slide-rock (called " scree " by the pro- 
fessional mountain-climbers, and " talus " by geologists), 
and often the top also is completely capped with it. 

(9) Occasionally the climber strikes a stretch of 
small stones, or, better still, an acre or two of loose shale, 
which is very safe and comfortable while it lasts. Down 
a good stretch of this one can plough along fast and 
fearlessly, as one descends the ashy side of Vesuvius, 
covering two yards at a stride. 

(10) When it comes to snow, and ice, — that is an- 
other story, and a long one. 

It was through a bewildering succession of such feat- 
ures as the above that Charlie and I made a long and 
arduous, though nowise dangerous climb, to the top of 
a pass that looked over into the Elk River water-shed. 
It was a cold day, and the changes of temperature that a 
climber experiences in one day were absurdly numerous. 

I started up wearing my elk-skin hunting-shirt, a silk 
muffler around my neck, and two suits of underclothing. 
At the head of the creek we took our last drink of 



i 4 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

water, and began to climb upward through the green 
timber. There being no wind to speak of, the exercise 
warmed us. 

At 500 feet up, my gloves came off, were labelled 
" not wanted," and stowed away in the hold. 

At 700 feet, off came my silk muffler. 

At 1,000 feet, my hunting-shirt was voted a superflu- 
ous luxury, taken off, and strapped upon my back. 

At 1,500 feet, my shirt-sleeves were turned up as high 
as they could go. 

At 1,800 feet, all my shirts were opened wide at 
the neck, and we had to wait for more air to blow 
along. 

At 2,000 feet an icy-cold wind struck us hard, and the 
mercury began to fall. Collars were hurriedly closed, 
and sleeves unreefed and made snug. To take off one's 
cap to mop away perspiration was like thrusting one's 
head into a pail of ice-water. 

At about 2,300 feet above Avalanche Creek, we 
reached the summit. It was as cold as Cape Sabine, and 
the icy wind blew half a gale. The rapid evaporation 
of the perspiration in my clothing made my body feel 
like the cylinder of an ice-cream freezer. With all 
haste, we flung on our outer garments, put on our gloves, 
and hurried over the sky-line to get out of the wind. 

A short distance down the eastern side we found an 
old goat-bed, in a little depression. In this we crouched, 
to scan the magnificent landscape below, and if possible 
to get less cold. The grandeur of what we saw instantly 
made us forget the icy wind. 



TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 141 

The summit behind us was not wider than a city lot, 
and in one magnificent sweep of half a mile, without a 
big rock or a tree, it swept down, down, down to the bot- 
tom of a huge, green basin in which a grand army could 
have encamped. 

On our right, and close at hand, there rose high above 
us, — and also dropped far below, — the most awful wall 
of rock that I saw in British Columbia. From bottom 
to top its perpendicular face was, I am sure, not less 
than a thousand feet. From it, there was an almost con- 
tinuous rattle of falling rock. Even had we seen a sheep 
on the face of it, we would not have had the heart to 
shoot the animal and see it fall off. 

The impressive height of that grim wall was strongly 
emphasized by the softer details of the great basin far 
below. It was fitting that the grandest precipice should 
rise from the grandest basin in those mountains, and 
cradle at its foot a tiny lake that was like a big emerald. 

The world below us was unrolled like a map. The 
outlines of the dark-green timber, as yet untouched by 
fire, and the intervening patches of light yellow-green 
grass, hemmed in on two sides by frowning walls of dark- 
gray rock and bounded in the distance by a succession of 
mountains running thirty miles away to the snowy peaks 
on the Continental Divide, made a grand and impressive 
picture. 

For half an hour we sat with our backs against the 
mountain-side, absorbing the magnificent panorama into 
our systems. We spoke little. All at once I saw some- 
thing new, and looked quickly at Charlie. At the same 



142 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

instant his face lighted up with a gleam of intelligence, 
and he looked sharply at me. 

" An elk, Charlie? " 

After a little pause, with his glass at his eyes, he 
answered, 

" Yes ; a full-grown bull. . . . That's the fellow 
whose trail we found yesterday in False Notch." 

Far down in the bottom of the basin, where the green 
timber halted at the foot of our slope, an elk had walked 
out into the middle of a little grass-plat, as if to give us 
the pleasure of seeing him. He carried a good pair of 
antlers, and he looked big and beautiful. It was indeed 
a keen pleasure to see a living, wild, adult bull elk in 
British Columbia, and to know for fair that even there 
the species is not yet extinct. 

For about five minutes the majestic animal grazed 
on the grass-plat, then marched to the edge of his little 
glade, and browsed on some of the green branches that 
he found there. Finally, like a dissolving view he van- 
ished in the thick green timber, and we saw him no more. 
It was the only elk that was seen on that trip. 

There was no other game visible in the great basin; 
and we voted unanimously that it was out of the ques- 
tion to descend that long eastward slope, hunt through 
the basin, and recross the mountain to camp, all in one 
afternoon. 

We decided to hunt back home by skirting the east- 
ern mountain-side of Avalanche Creek, at timber-line, 
and thereby have a good look for both bear and sheep. 

First we went to look at the carcasses of the four 




A Big-Horn Ram's Signature 




Goat Lick, on the Southern Slope of Cyclorama Ridge 



See page 239. 



TIMBER-LINE AND SUMMIT 143 

goats killed on Phillips Peak, and finding no bear-signs 
about them, we swung off on our long mountain-side 
tramp. 

By that time, the day had grown stormy. The west 
wind had borne up a mass of leaden clouds that com- 
pletely obscured the sun; but fortunately they flew well 
above us. It was evident that snow was on the wings 
of the wind. Whenever we crossed a wedge of green 
timber we went at a swift pace, but at every basin, and 
every open pathway of an avalanche, we hunted very 
cautiously. 

Before our progress, that mountain-side unrolled like 
a panorama, in an endless chain of timbered ridges, hol- 
low basins, steep slopes, ridges of slide-rock, and frown- 
ing cliffs looming up into the flying clouds. 

Once we passed a very curious feature. From the 
side of a cliff, half way from basin-bottom to summit, 
there came out a huge mass of slide-rock that looked like 
an enormous dump from a mountain mine. The level 
top ran back to the face of the rock wall, and it looked 
as if cars had run out of the bowels of the mountain, and 
dumped there ten million tons of broken limestone, in 
slide-rock sizes. The resemblance was perfect, and I 
told Charlie to enter the name of that feature as " The 
Dump." 

That was an awe-inspiring scramble. 

Even a sensible dog would have been impressed by 
the majesty of the rugged rock walls towering heaven- 
ward; the rugged terrors of the acres and acres of cruel 
slide- rock; the weird, squawking cries of the Clark's 



i 4 4 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

crows and Canada jays that circled about us, or perched 
briefly on the tips of the dead and ragged spruces; the 
whistling of the cold, raw wind through the pines, and 
over all the dull gray clouds flying swiftly and silently 
across the tops of the peaks. 

We climbed on and on, seeing much but saying little. 
In a patch of green timber, we found a nut-pine tree 
that had been butted and badly scarred, by a mountain 
sheep ram. Its stem was about ten inches in diameter, 
and about three feet from the ground the horns of a lusty 
sheep had battered the bark off, quite down to the wood. 
Two long, elliptical scars were left, with a narrow strip 
of living bark between them, as a record of the time 
when a well-fed ram passed that way, and was seized 
by the boy-like impulse to carve his name in the bark of 
a tree. This is a favorite pastime of mountain sheep 
rams during the months of September and October, when 
they are so full of grass and energy that the mountains 
seem scarcely big enough to contain them. 

To scramble for several hours along a steep mountain- 
side, going always in the same direction, is very wearing 
upon the ankles, and tends to make one leg shorter than 
it really ought to be. At the " psychological moment," 
— whatever that may be, — Charlie changed our course, 
and bore diagonally downward until we struck the bot- 
tom of Avalanche Valley close to the circle of light that 
radiated from the blazing logs of our royal camp-fire. 

And then it began to snow. 



CHAPTER X 

ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN 

Getting Next to Nature — Waterfall Notch — The Pika at Home — 
Ground - Squirrels and Grizzly Bears — Temptation Goats — 
Variations between Summits — Fool-Hens and Ptarmigan — Dwarf 
Spruces — Bull River — Mule-Deer Grounds — Berries of the Moun- 
tains — Charlie Smith Finds Grizzly-Bear Signs. 

"O, puny Man, wouldst thou atone 
For years of swelling ego heart, 
Go, tread the mountain-top alone, 
And learn how very small thou art!" 

— The Spell of the Mountains. 

If you would get next the soul of Nature, go to meet 
her as you call upon your sweetheart, — alone. There 
are times when the presence of one's dearest friend is a 
distraction. If you would feel the mystic Spell of the 
Mountains, go into them as Moses did when he met God 
and received The Law, — alone. If you would know 
what it is to feel so awed by the panorama of the world 
that you lose half your desire to find killable game, and 
for a few hours cease to be a predatory animal, climb a 
fine mountain all alone. In that way one sees things and 
feels things that are veiled by the presence of any other 
human being. The moral uplift that one feels when 
alone on a wild prairie is magnified five times on a first- 
class mountain. 

145 



146 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Quite aside from the animal life, the strange vegeta- 
tion of the mountain heights near timber-line is enough 
to tempt any one upward. It is far more interesting, 
yard for yard, than anything one finds in the tropics. 
On a high mountain, at timber-line one finds only the 
bravest and the hardiest of Nature's trees, and flowers, 
and animals. Wherever vegetation climbs up in genu- 
ine luxuriance to six thousand feet, and is suddenly and 
rudely stopped short at seven thousand feet, the finish is 
as keenly interesting as finishes generally are. It is good 
to climb up through a living exposition of the survival 
of the fittest, both in plant life and animal life. 

• •••••• 

Two days after our goat-hunt on Phillips Peak, an 
incident occurred which caused our little party to scat- 
ter, for two days. Just before sunset, we saw far aloft, 
on the sky-line of the mountain range that ran along 
the eastern side of Avalanche Creek, a band of twelve 
mountain sheep, all rams. Naturally this exhibit caused 
quite a sensation in camp, and eventually it produced 
several important results. Mr. Phillips wished to kill 
a big ram for the Carnegie Museum, but having had 
my chance at sheep, in Wyoming, I had vowed to hunt 
sheep no more. 

Accordingly, on the following morning, Mr. Phil- 
lips and the Norboes took packs on their backs, with 
three days' rations, and departed on a hunt for the rams 
of the previous day. Charlie Smith went off on a long 
tramp to look for grizzly-bear signs, for my special bene- 
fit. Instead of going with him as usual, on that day I 



ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN 147 

decided to climb to a certain summit west of camp, on 
which I had noted from Phillips Peak (opposite), some 
excellent grounds for mule deer. I felt that I would 
like to explore those summits all alone, and have a good 
think, game or no game. 

As a matter of ordinary precaution, I told Charlie 
and Huddleston where I intended to go, and asked for 
any directions that might be helpful. Charlie told me 
that an old game-trail led around the waterfall I in- 
tended to strike, and that if I went hither and yon, and 
thus and so, I would probably strike it. His directions 
were clear enough, but somehow I have before now 
found it difficult to make the ground-plan of a wild 
western landscape fit the specifications of it. This time, 
however, I resolved to try to do better in that respect. 

Seldom have I seen in any land a finer day. The 
sun shone bravely, but at intervals it was partly obscured 
by fleecy white clouds that briskly drifted up from the 
west, then passed on over. The air was wondrous clear, 
and just cold enough to be invigorating. 

Charlie's one direction which I had so firmly spiked 
down that it failed to escape, was that I would do well 
to go as far as possible up the bed of the little creek that 
came down from my Waterfall Notch. This I did. At 
first I found it absolutely dry, and the going over the 
small, smooth dornicks was rather easy. But in a short 
time, the dense green timber that filled the valley threw 
so many tree-trunks across the stream's course that I was 
obliged to scramble out and take to the easier bank. 

At that point Charlie's directions were lost in the 



i 4 8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

shuffle, like a creek running under slide-rock; but I 
hoped they would, streamlike, come to the surface far- 
ther on. From moment to moment I chose the least dif- 
ficult route, as does a wild man or a wild beast in mark- 
ing out a trail for the first time. On the north side of 
the creek I scrambled through some very much tangled 
" down timber " amid the " green timber," always going 
up, of course, and presently emerged upon a five-acre 
tract of very coarse and cruelly sharp slide-rock. Over 
that toilsome stretch I went with the attention which such 
treacherous and dangerous stuff demands, and finally I 
reached the upper limit of that also. 

Looking ahead, I saw my waterfall, hard at work 
pouring a collection of two-inch streams over a fifty-foot 
precipice, — all of which promptly vanished from sight 
under the slide-rock that had been carried across the 
stream-bed. At that time, the fall was not very impres- 
sive, because the volume of water was too small for 
grandeur. Still, a natural waterfall in a mountain land- 
scape is always grateful to the eye, and companionable. 

As I picked my way upward over the slide-rock, the 
plaintive, whistling cry of the pika, or little chief " hare," 
came to me from a chaos of large rocks piled near the 
edge of a half-acre of weeds. The cry sounds like the 
word cheap, pitched very high and much prolonged. 
The cry of this creature is so elusive one seldom can 
locate it with precision, so making as good a guess as 
possible, I sat down to wait for the little brother of the 
rocks to appear. 

I sat motionless for perhaps ten minutes, and then 



ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN 149 

my small neighbor appeared. Like a modest little gray 
shadow it seemed to slide out from nowhere to the level 
top of a chunk of stone, and there halted to observe the 
world. Except for his short round ears, he looked like 
a half-grown gray rabbit. I waited for him to go to work 
at cutting his winter's supply of hay, but he was too delib- 
erate, and before he began his day's work I was obliged 
to move on. 

Let it be remembered at this point that this little 
creature, so long called the little chief " hare," or crying 
" hare," is not a hare, nor is it even a member of the 
Hare and Rabbit Family (Leporidce). It is so odd that 
it stands alone, in a Family limited to its own small self, 
containing only the pikas. But, small and lonesome 
though he be, the pika is wise. Neither marten, wol- 
verine nor grizzly can dig him out of his slide-rock, and 
we never once saw a place where a bear had even tried 
to do so. But the nearest neighbor of the pika has far 
less wisdom. 

In many localities around Phillips Peak we found 
big holes in the ground that had been dug by grizzly 
bears in quest of Columbia River ground-squirrels.* 
Indeed, we saw more holes than ground-squirrels. This 
animal looks like a long-bodied Carolina gray squirrel 
with a half-sized tail. Usually it is found in the moun- 
tain basins, and in other open situations below timber- 
line where the earth is right for burrowing. 

We saw between forty and fifty holes, from two to 
three feet deep, and usually three feet in surface diam- 

* Citellus columbianus. 



150 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

eter, each of which marked a tragedy. Unfortunately, 
the silly ground-squirrel has not yet learned, either by 
inheritance or in the "school of the woods "(I), that a 
three-foot burrow is the same as a pantry shelf to a hun- 
gry grizzly, and that no Citellus is safe who stops his 
burrow anywhere above a vertical depth of six feet. 
With plenty of time, and no end of earth, the foolish 
ground-squirrel (here called the "gopher"), rests from 
his digging just under the frost-line. In October the 
grizzly joyously rips out half a cubic yard of earth, 
thrusts his deadly hooks on down to the end of the bur- 
row, and Citellus quickly is converted into half an ounce 
of bear-oil. 

Between the grizzlies underground, and the greedy 
marten above ground, the mountains of British Columbia 
will not be overrun by ground-squirrels, chipmunks, nor 
other small mammals until the fangs and claws decrease. 

But this is a digression. 

I soon saw that the way around the north side of the 
fall was very rugged and precipitous, and far too diffi- 
cult to be chosen voluntarily. Accordingly I crossed the 
dry stream-bed, and started to climb, by hand and foot, 
up the extremely steep southern side, which happened 
to be covered with a good growth of green timber. I 
had not gone more than a hundred yards when I struck 
the old trail that Charlie had mentioned. Feeling very 
complacent over the finding of the right course by plain 
animal instinct, I blithely swung on up, and soon stood 
on level ground above the falls. 

And then I noted how very different the ground be- 




The Little Haymaker of the Slide- Rock 

Pika, or Little Chief "Hare." 




The Grizzly's Lawful Prey — The Columbia River Ground-Squirrel 

Every year thousands of these are dug out of their burrows and eaten by the grizzlies. 



ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN 151 

yond the fall really was from what it had looked to be, 
as I saw it from the other side of Avalanche Valley. At 
a distance of two miles, and a higher elevation, it had 
seemed that from the waterfall a long, gently sloping 
ridge ran back for a considerable distance. In actuality, 
behind the waterfall, I found an eight-acre meadow, 
nearly level, and covered with rank grass. Beyond that, 
a steep mountain divide climbs on up. On the north 
rose an easy peak, and on the south, close at hand, there 
towered aloft a massive dome of naked rock. On get- 
ting clear of that, one looks far southward into another 
big basin, half encircled by a lofty wall of rock that 
rises sheer to the sky-line. Upon a ledge of that wall, 
about four hundred yards distant, I saw two billy goats 
of shootable size, basking in the glorious beams of the 
morning sun. 

When I realized how comparatively easy it would be 
to climb up, south-westerly, swing around under the sky- 
line and fetch up within easy range of those goats, it 
gave me a disturbed and anxious feeling. I knew I 
ought not kill any more goats, having three; — but a head 
is a head, and my friends are many. Would I be strong 
enough to resist that temptation throughout a whole 
sunny day, with twenty cartridges grinning in my belt 
like the teeth of a wild animal, and those two old billies 
mine by act of parliament, if I chose to take them? 

After a long survey of the animals, I said, " Get thee 
behind me, Satan! " Resolutely I turned my back upon 
them, and decided to climb to the summit by way of the 
gulch that came down farthest away from them, north- 



1 52 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

erly. By walking rapidly I would soon be so far away 
that it would be too much of a task to return for just 
one or two old goats. 

My little gulch came down very steeply, in a course 
that was almost due south. In each direction from its 
bed there stretched upward, at the comfortable angle of 
about thirty degrees, a wide, smooth sweep of ridge-side 
that suggested Dream Mountains. The hand of Nature 
had smoothed those slopes, and planted them, to afford a 
soothing and restful contrast with all the mountains sur- 
rounding them. Think of the horrible rock-pile, a mile 
farther north, which Charlie and I climbed two days 
previously, in False Notch. Here there were no stretches 
of grinning slide-rock, no rock walls, no timber, either 
down or green, no neck-breakers of any kind. All was 
balmy peace. To save the face of the slopes from hav- 
ing an air of desolation, each was planted very evenly 
with stunted spruces and junipers, set eight feet apart. 
They grew with wonderful regularity, and so nicely scat- 
tered that walking was not at all impeded by them. 

I chose the slope of the western hill, because the sun 
shone full upon it, and went up on a line about a hun- 
dred feet above the bottom of the little naked gulch. 
The opposite mountain side was so queer, and so beauti- 
ful in the nursery-like regularity of its planting, that I 
frequently sat down to rest and enjoy the sight of it. It 
looked for all the world like an immense relief-map, 
such as I have made before now, set with toy evergreens, 
and tilted up on edge to enable one to look down upon 
it. I never before saw so odd a picture of mountain 



ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN 153 

verdure. I could have counted every one of the toy 
trees on that whole mountain side without moving from 
my seat. It represented timber-line, for fair. 

But even there, in the Dream Mountains, the serpent 
reared its head. When I sat down to enjoy the sceneries, 
I saw those goats, ever so plainly; and the tempter whis- 
pered, " It would be quite a feat to kill those goats, alone 
and guideless, and carry in the heads of both. . . . Per- 
haps one of them is larger than any one of the dead six! 
. . . You have come far to reach this country, and with- 
out a grizzly bear, — which assuredly you will not get, — 
you will have only goats to show. A successful stalk, 
under the rim of that mountain, would be very interest- 
ing; and it would properly round out a glorious day." 

I listened to such as this until the iteration of it 
became irritating, then I sprang up and climbed on in 
the opposite direction. And then Vishnu, the goddess 
of Preservation, brought me to a bunch of sooty grouse. 
When the first bird exploded into the air, close beside 
me, I was well startled. The bird flew about fifty feet 
and alighted near its mates, thus giving me a good oppor- 
tunity to see them on the ground, and note their actions. 

The story of a flock of fool-hens is like the annals of 
the poor, — short and simple. Each bird stalks about 
stiffly, with head well up, gazing and gazing at the 
intruder, in stupid wonder that is wondrously stupid. 
With a shot-gun, there would be about as much excite- 
ment in shooting one as there would be in killing a sloth 
on the run. To a marksman who wants the birds for 
food, there is some interest in shooting them through the 



154 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

head with a .22-calibre pistol; but with a good rifle or 
shot-gun, it is plain murder in the first degree. In flight 
this bird strongly resembles the pinnated grouse, or 
prairie-chicken, except that the flight of the latter is 
stronger. 

On the summit of the divide, and beyond the last of 
the stunted spruces, I found some willow ptarmigan. 
Their snow-white wings and tails, in full winter plu- 
mage, contrasted sharply with the brown summer plu- 
mage which still clothed their bodies. As usual, these 
birds slowly stalked about over the sky meadow, quite 
willing that I should approach within ten feet of them. 
At last, however, they rose, saying " cluck-cluck-cluck," 
and flew down the mountain a quarter of a mile. 

Above the point where my friendly little gulch starts 
down, a view from the summit reveals a sudden drop 
toward Bull River, and a great basin below. Turning 
southward, I followed the sky-line of the summit in such 
a manner as to thoroughly inspect every outcrop of 
sheep rocks, and every patch of open timber. The for- 
mer might contain mule deer, and either might harbor a 
band of sheep. 

At one point on the summit I found a very interest- 
ing growth of stunted spruces. They grew in family 
clumps, about as far apart as the trees in an orchard, 
and the curious thing about them was that they were so 
stunted by the warfare of the elements that they were 
really pygmy trees. Their large trunks, low stature, — 
seldom exceeding five feet, — and dwarfed limbs remind 
one of the strange dwarf trees produced by the tie-back 



ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN 155 

process of the Japanese. On a commanding point, I 
found a clump which was crescent-shaped, with its con- 
vex side toward the west wind, and in its embrace I 
halted for half an hour to gaze over the top of the 
evergreen barricade. The encircled ground had been 
tramped bare, and it was evident that many a goat and 
sheep had recently sheltered there. 

The mountain slope that swept down to Bull River 
was a gray and melancholy waste. From a short distance 
below the summit, fire had devastated the mountain side, 
killing every tree, and exposing all the outcroppings of 
rugged rock and cliff. Near by, the tall gray tree- 
trunks, shorn of their branches, were like untrimmed 
telegraph-poles; farther on, we saw what seemed to be 
a forest of hop-poles, and beyond that appeared a thin 
mantle of gray quills, like the covering of a hedgehog. 

Two miles away, the east fork of Bull River mean- 
dered through a narrow valley of dead timber, and on its 
farther side, narrow valleys climbed up westward, until 
they stopped abruptly in regulation rock basins, bounded 
by precipitous cliffs. And even as I looked across, and 
wondered what big game might be therein, I heard the 
unmistakable " Ser-lam ! " of a hunter's rifle. Some one 
was hunting in the rugged valley directly opposite my 
eyrie, and had found game. Who could it be, in that 
wild place? Surely it was no one from the Elk River 
Valley. 

In the course of an hour, I heard about twelve shots ; 
but two months elapsed ere I learned that the hunters 
were from Fort Steele, and were in quest of mule deer. 



1 56 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

The western side of my slope seemed specially favor- 
able for mule deer, and in the hope of finding either 
deer in the green timber or sheep near the cliffs, I hunted 
far down. It was good to get on ground that was not 
rocky, and to hunt through real " mule-deer country." 
Find it where you may, in bad-lands, foot-hills or moun- 
tains, the home of the mule deer is always a beautiful 
hunting-ground. 

But I found no big game; and at one o'clock I 
selected a lovely spot, in a clump of sturdy spruces, 
chose a soft resting-place on a bed of dry needles, and 
sat down to rest and eat my luncheon of Fry's sweet 
chocolate. 

As I settled myself, I noticed that I was on the bor- 
der of an extensive bed of tiny huckleberry bushes. The 
shrubs were only about six inches high, but were hang- 
ing thick with very small, pink huckleberries, the size of 
No. 6 shot. That species is very common throughout 
those mountains. Usually the bushes grow so thinly it 
does not pay to pick such small berries ; but these bore so 
abundantly that I combed the fruit off the almost leafless 
stems, by the handful, winnowed it to clear away the 
debris, and ate until my fruit-hunger cried, " Enough ! " 

An appreciable supply of wild fruit or nuts gives 
one a very friendly feeling toward the land that pro- 
duces it. In the tropics, you can starve, at almost any 
time or place, with rank vegetation all about you, be- 
cause there is so very little that is edible. After nearly 
five years spent in tropical jungles, I can count on the 
fingers of one hand the occasions wherein I was able to 



ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN 157 

satisfy my hunger with wild fruits found in the forest; 
and as for nuts, I never found one. 

But in the temperate zone, — dear me! Think of the 
delicious plums, the berries of a dozen kinds, the 
wild grapes, pawpaws, persimmons, crab-apples, haws 
red and haws black, and nuts without end! 

Here in these mountains, we found in September the 
following berries, ripe and edible: 

Huckleberries; five species, widely scattered; abun- 
dant in places. 

Black Currants ; very common, dead ripe ; quite bitter, 
but good to quench thirst. 

Saskatoon, or Service-Berry; favorite food for griz- 
zly bears in September. 

Elderberry; in clumps in many valleys; plentiful. 

Soap-Berry; two species, red and yellow; like cur- 
rants, very bitter. 

Red Raspberry; but we found only one patch. 

Thimbleberry ; grows solitary, in green timber only. 

Strawberry; a few found, high on the mountains. 

In addition to the above, which we saw, there is the 
Sarsaparilla-Berry, of the large river valleys; the Red 
Cahoosh; and the Bear-Berry, which is a strong cathartic. 

The very desirable bull-berry of Montana and Wy- 
oming does not grow in the mountains of British Colum- 
bia. In the green timber we found a beautiful scarlet 
berry, shaped like a long, thin, Boston baked bean, which 
no one could name or vouch for. 

When my mid-day rest was finished, I went on hunt- 
ing. Striking a much-used game-trail on the summit, I 



1 58 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

followed it southward until it ran up the southern peak 
far above timber-line, and led me quite near those temp- 
tation goats. Always those goats! I felt quite put out 
with them because they had fed toward me instead of 
away from me. 

For half an hour I amused myself with watching 
them, and testing their senses by whistling to them, say- 
ing, " Ah ! " in various tones, and mystifying them gen- 
erally, until at last they took alarm on general prin- 
ciples, and concluded to leave. Then in some haste they 
climbed over the summit. As they disappeared I turned 
and strode down the eastern slope, campward, after as 
soul-filling a day as I ever spent in the lap of Nature, 
but without having fired a shot. I reached camp about 
half an hour before sunset, and found that the reward 
for my abstemiousness on those temptation goats was all 
ready. Charlie Smith had just arrived, after a weari- 
some tramp of twenty-four miles, and reported that he 
had visited all the goat carcasses. At those of our first 
two goats he found two wolverines, and took a long shot 
at one of them. There were fresh grizzly-bear signs all 
about! 

" And to-morrow, Director," said Charlie in conclu- 
sion, " you're going to have a chance at a silver-tip! " 

Outwardly, I received this assurance with brisk ap- 
preciation, but inwardly I felt that the chances against 
me were as nine to one. 



CHAPTER XI 

MY GRIZZLY-BEAR DAY 

Rubbing-Trees of Bears— Fresh Grizzly "Signs" Reported — A Trip 
to the Goat Remains — A Silver-Tip at Work — Her Death — The 
Autopsy — Amateur Photography and its Results — The Bear's 
Cache — Wolverines Observed — A Jollification in Camp. 

When one can start out from camp, and in a walk 
of two hours find at least a dozen rubbing-trees of grizzly 
bears, each one with bear hair clinging to its bark, then 
may one say, "This is bear country!" That was what 
we found in the green timber of Avalanche Valley, be- 
tween our camp and Roth Mountain, six miles below. 
All the rubbing-trees we saw were from eight to twelve 
inches in diameter, as if small ones had been specially 
chosen. I suppose this is because there are no large 
spur roots to interfere with the standing bear; besides 
which, a small tree offers a sharper edge. 

On those trees we saw where several of the rubbing 
bears had bitten the trunk, high up, tearing the bark 
open crosswise. We also found, on some, raking claw- 
marks across the bark. Charlie Smith said that the 
tooth-marks are always made by grizzlies and the claw- 
marks by black bears. 

As before remarked, Mr. Phillips and Charlie Smith 

were very desirous that I should find and kill a grizzly, 

but for several reasons I had little hope that it would 

»59 



160 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

come to pass. September is not a good month in which 
to find a bear of any species on those summits; nor is a 
short hunting-trip conducive to the development of bear- 
episodes, anywhere. In spite of Charlie's hopefulness, 
I did not take the prospect seriously, even though in the 
Michel store Mack had called for twine with which to 
stretch bear-hides ! But in bear-hunting, " it is better to 
be born lucky than rich." 

When Charlie came in on the evening of the 19th of 
September and reported a bear at the carcass of my first 
goat, it really seemed time to hope for at least a distant 
view of Old Ephraim. Believing that one good way to 
reveal certain phases of wild-animal life is in showing 
how animals are actually found in their haunts, I am 
tempted to set forth a statement of the events of Sep- 
tember 20th. It may be that others wonder, as I often 
have, just how it feels to hunt a grizzly bear, — the most 
dangerous American animal — and find him, at timber- 
line. The really bold hunters may scoff at the courage 
and ferocity of the grizzly as he is to-day; but Charlie 
Smith openly declares that the one particular thing 
which he never does, and never will do, is to fire his last 
cartridge when away from camp. 

It was the third day of Mr. Phillips's hunt for moun- 
tain sheep, and he was still absent. Charlie and I took 
two saddle-horses and set out before sunrise, intending 
to visit all the goat carcasses before returning. We 
pushed briskly up to the head of Avalanche Creek, 
climbed to the top of the pass, then dropped down into 
the basin on the north. I dreaded a long climb on foot 



MY GRIZZLY-BEAR DAY 161 

from that point up to our old camp on Goat Pass, but 
was happily disappointed. Thanks to the good engineer- 
ing of some Indian trail-maker, the trail led from the 
head of the basin, on an easy gradient, up through the 
green timber of the mountain side, quite to our old camp. 

We found fresh grizzly-bear tracks within fifty feet 
of the ashes of our camp-fire; but our goat-skins in the 
big spruce, and our cache of provisions near it, had not 
been touched. It was here that we saw a solitary goat 
feeding on the precipitous slope beneath the glacier on 
Phillips Peak, as noted elsewhere. And here we were 
reminded of Mr. Phillips's uneasiness about the dead 
trees that stood near our tents, and which he had feared 
might blow down upon us. A large dead tree had fallen 
upon our camp-ground, squarely across the green bed of 
spruce boughs on which Charlie and Mack Norboe had 
slept four nightsl Had it fallen upon them as they 
slept, both would have been instantly killed. 

With only a few minutes delay, we mounted once 
more and rode on northward toward the scene of the 
first goat-kill. As we rode up the ridge of Bald Moun- 
tain, a biting cold wind, blowing sixty miles an hour, 
struck us with its full force. It went through our cloth- 
ing like cold water, and penetrated to the marrow in our 
bones. At one point it seemed determined to blow the 
hair of! Kaiser's back. While struggling to hold myself 
together, I saw the dog suddenly whirl head on to the 
fierce blast, crouch low, and fiercely grip the turf with 
his claws, to keep from being blown away. It was all 
that our horses could do to hold a straight course, and 



1 62 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

keep from drifting down to the very edge of the preci- 
pice that yawned only twenty-five feet to leeward. We 
were glad to get under the lee of Bald Mountain, where 
the fierce blast that concentrated on that bleak pass could 
not strike us with its full force. 

At last we reached the lake we named in honor of 
Kaiser. Dismounting in a grassy hollow that was shel- 
tered from the wind, we quickly stripped the saddles from 
our horses and picketed the animals so that they could 
graze. Then, catching up our rifles, cameras, and a very 
slim parcel of luncheon, we set out past the lake for the 
ridge that rises beyond it. 

The timber on the ridge was very thin, and we could 
see through it for a hundred yards or more. As we 
climbed, we looked sharply all about, for it seemed very 
probable that a grizzly might be lying beside a log in 
the fitful sunshine that struck the southern face of the 
hill. Of course, as prudent hunters, we were prepared 
to see a grizzly that was above us, and big, and danger- 
ous, — three conditions that guarantee an interesting ses- 
sion whenever they come together. 

Dog Kaiser was peremptorily ordered to follow us, 
which he did with a degree of intelligent obedience that 
would have shamed many a man. He is what is called 
a " slow trailer," which means that in following big game 
he either keeps close behind his master, or else goes 
ahead so slowly that it is possible for the latter to keep 
up with him, and see the game before the dog disturbs it. 

We reached the crest of the ridge, without having 
seen a bear, and with the utmost caution stalked on down 



MY GRIZZLY-BEAR DAY 163 

the northern side, toward the spot where the two goat 
carcasses lay on the slide-rock. The noise we made was 
reduced to an irreducible minimum. 

We trod and straddled like men burglarizing Nat- 
ure's sky-parlor. We broke no dead twigs, we scraped 
against no dead branches, we slid over no fallen logs. 
Step by step we stole down the hillside, as cautiously as 
if we had known that a bear was really at the foot of it. 
At no time would it have surprised us to have seen Old 
Ephraim spring up from behind a bush or a fallen log, 
within twenty feet of us. 

At last the gray slide- rock began to rise into view. 
At last we paused, breathing softly and seldom, behind 
a little clump of spruces. Charlie, who was a step in 
advance, stretched his neck to its limit, and looked on 
beyond the edge of the hill, to the very spot where lay 
the remains of my first mountain goat. My view was 
cut off by green branches and Charlie. 

He turned to me, and whispered in a perfectly color- 
less way, 

" He's lying right on the carcass ! " 

" What? Do you mean to say that a bear is really 
there}" I asked, in astonishment. 

" Yes ! Stand here, and you can see him, — just over 
the edge." 

I stepped forward and looked. Far down, fully 
one hundred and fifty yards from where we were, 
there lay a silvery-gray animal, head up, front paws out- 
stretched. It was indeed a silver-tip; but it looked 
awfully small and far away. He was out on the clean, 



1 64 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

light-gray stipple of slide-rock, beside the scanty remains 
of my goat. 

Even as I took my first look, the animal rose on his 
haunches, and for a moment looked intently toward the 
north, away from us. The wind waved his long hair, 
one wave after another. It was a fine chance for a line 
shot at the spinal column; and at once I made ready 
to fire. 

" Do you think you can kill him from here} " asked 
Charlie, anxiously. " You can get nearer to him if you 
like." 

" Yes ; I think I can hit him from here all right." 
(I had carefully fixed the sights of my rifle, several days 
previously.) 

" Well, if you don't hit him, I'll kick you down this 
ridge!" said Charlie, solemn as a church owl, with an 
on-your-head-be-it air. To me, it was clearly a moment 
of great peril. 

I greatly desired to watch that animal for half an 
hour; but when a bear-hunter finds a grizzly bear, the 
thing for him to do is to kill it first, and watch it after- 
ward. I realized that no amount of bear observations 
ever could explain to John Phillips the loss of that bear. 

As I raised my .303 Savage, the grizzly rose in a 
business-like way, and started to walk up the slide-rock, 
due south, and a little quartering from us. This was not 
half so good for me as when he was sitting down. Aim- 
ing to hit his heart and lungs, close behind his foreleg, 
and allowing a foot for his walking, I let go. 

A second or two after the " whang " the bear reared 



MY GRIZZLY-BEAR DAY 165 

slightly, and sharply wheeled toward his right, away 
from us; and just then Charlie's rifle roared, — close be- 
side my ear! Without losing an instant, the grizzly 
started on a mad gallop, down the slide-rock and down 
the canyon, running squarely across our front. 

" Heavens! " I thought, aghast. " Have I missed 
him? " 

Quickly I threw in another cartridge, and fired 
again ; and " whang " went Charlie, as before. The bear 
fairly flew, reaching far out with its front feet, its long 
hair rolling in great waves from head to tail. Even at 
that distance, its silver- tipped fur proclaimed the species. 

Bushes now hid my view, and I ran down a few 
yards, to get a fair show. At last my chance came. As 
the bear raced across an opening in my view, I aimed 
three feet ahead of his nose, and fired my third shot. 

Instantly the animal pitched forward on his head, 
like a stricken rabbit, and lay very still. 

" Ye fetched him that time ! " yelled Charlie, trium- 
phantly. " He's down! He's down! Go for him, 
Kaiser! Go for him! " 

The dog was ready to burst with superheated eager- 
ness. With two or three whining yelps he dashed away 
down the ridge, and out of sight. By this time Charlie 
was well below me, and I ran down to where he stood, 
beaming up. 

" You've fixed him, Director! He's down for keeps." 

"Where is he?" 

" Lying right on that patch of yellow grass, and dead 
as a wedge. Shake! " 



166 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

We shook. It would have been conceited folly to 
have done otherwise. To come twelve miles, find our 
long-lost silver-tip, and down him by eleven o'clock, 
made us feel that we were each of us entitled to a few 
gloats over the result. 

"Woo, yow-yow!" said Kaiser far below, — about 
ten seconds after he had disappeared ; and there he was, 
looking very small, and joyously biting the hams of the 
dead grizzly. Instead of sitting astride a killed animal, 
and being photographed with one hand upon it, Kaiser 
gloats over his dead game by biting its hams. 

As quickly as possible, we descended the slope and 
soon stood beside the dead grizzly. Then, as often hap- 
pens, its sex changed very suddenly. Every grizzly is a 
" he," until shot! This one was a fat young female, not 
as big as we had hoped, but in beautiful pelage for Sep- 
tember. In remarking upon the length and immaculate- 
ness of the furry coat, which still waved in the wind, 
Charlie remarked, that at this season the female grizzlies 
have longer hair than the males. I was sorry we could 
not weigh the animal, but at that moment my scales were 
twenty miles away, with the sheep-hunters. 

The next thing was to photograph the game ; and in 
view of the wild and romantic scenery that hemmed us 
in, and stretched away before us, plunging down Goat 
Creek, I sincerely regretted the absence of Mr. Phillips 
and his splendid stereo camera. But Charlie Smith had 
his small camera and four " fillims," and surely he could 
do something to save the situation. In these kodak days, 
a grizzly-bear hunter might as well return without the 



MY GRIZZLY-BEAR DAY 167 

hide of his grizzly as without a photograph of the dead 
animal. 

I said to Charlie that we must take the case seriously, 
and do our best as long as the films held out. 

Now, on the trail and in camp the writer is neither 
photographer nor cook. He has troubles enough in the 
departments of taxidermy and osteology. This time, 
however, I had a borrowed pocket-kodak and three rolls 
of films, but no skill in the taking of pictures. While 
I knew how to " compose " a picture, I knew nothing 
about time-exposures; and besides this, I had great dif- 
ficulty in finding things in a small finder. 

But that bear had to be photographed, and we went 
at it seriously. Charlie used up his films, and then I 
took my turn, as if, like Winkelreid, on my sole arm 
hung victory. 

In the middle distance, behind the bear, I found a 
very tall, columnar spruce that rose like a monument 
high above its neighbors; and that I adopted as the 
key to the situation. I photographed with bright light, 
and again with gray, as solemnly as if valuable results 
were about to be secured; but it was a great strain on 
Faith. 

A month later, when Mr. E. F. Keller developed my 
films, and sent me some prints from them, I laughed 
long. So did Mr. Phillips when I showed him one of 
the best of my results. Then he was mystified. 

" How on earth did a photographic incompetent like 
you ever make such a picture as that} " he demanded. 

I replied that in photography an ideal picture is 



1 68 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

solely a matter of technical knowledge and artistic skill! 
My best picture is reproduced herewith. 

We made a careful autopsy of the bear, and were 
able to determine to a certainty the details of our shoot- 
ing, and its results. By good luck, my first shot went 
true to the mark aimed for, — the heart region, immedi- 
ately behind the foreleg. But it did not go through the 
heart. The animal was quartering to me, sufficiently 
that my ball passed close behind the heart, tore the lungs 
and liver to bits, and passed out at the middle of the 
right side, low down. We thrust a small stick through, 
in the track of the ball, and left it there. 

Charlie Smith fired as the bear was turning to the 
right. His bullet entered the left thigh, tore a great hole 
through the flesh between the skin and the femur, passed 
through the entrails, and lodged against the skin of the 
right side, well back. His bullets were of a larger 
calibre than mine, and this one was fully identified. 
We marked the course of that bullet, also, with a stick. 
After receiving those two bullets, the bear ran as if un- 
harmed for about a hundred yards, when my third shot 
broke its neck, and brought it down in a heap, too dead 
to struggle. It was not touched by any other bullets 
than the three described. The distance, as nearly as we 
could estimate, was one hundred and fifty yards, good 
measure. 

My first shot was of course absolutely fatal, and had 
I but known it, I need not have fired again. It was 
marvellous that the animal did not fall at the first fire, 
and equally so that with its lungs torn to pieces, it was 



MY GRIZZLY-BEAR DAY 169 

able to run a hundred yards at top speed. How much 
farther could it have gone, had no other shots been 
fired? Not far, surely, for as it ran, it spattered the 
clean gray rocks with an awful outpouring of blood. 

After our photographic labors we ate our frugal 
luncheon, rested, then skinned the bear. That accom- 
plished we set out to examine the work done by our 
animal, with and unto the carcasses of the two goats. 
The result proved most interesting. 

First we sought the carcass of Mr. Phillips's goat, 
which was rolled over the cliff, and fell immediately 
above the spot where our silver-tip gave up her ghost. 
On seeking it, we found a grizzly-bear's cache of a most 
elaborate and artistic character. On the steep hillside a 
shallow hole had been dug, the whole carcass rolled into 
it, and then upon it had been piled nearly a wagon-load 
of fresh earth, moss and green plants that had been torn 
up by the roots. Over the highest point of the carcass 
the mass was twenty-four inches deep. On the ground 
the cache was elliptical in shape, about seven by nine 
feet. On the lower side it was four feet high, and on 
the upper side two feet. The pyramid was built around 
two small larch saplings, as if to secure their support. 

On the uphill side of the cache, the ground was torn 
up in a space shaped like a half-moon, twenty-eight feet 
long by nineteen feet wide. From this space every green 
thing had been torn up, and piled on the pyramid. The 
outer surface of the cone was a mass of curly, fibrous 
roots and fresh earth. 

In her own clumsy way, the bear had done her best 



i 7 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN -ROCKIES 

to provide for a rainy day. Her labors would indeed 
have protected her prize from the eagles, but at that two 
feet of soft stuff a wolverine would have laughed in 
ghoulish glee while he laid bare the contents of that 
cache with about six rakes of his rascally paws. 

As already mentioned, on the previous day, Charlie 
Smith did see two wolverines in the vicinity of these 
goat remains, and fired at one of them, without effect. 
Both ran away across the slide-rock, often halting and 
defiantly looking backward, with short, stubby tail-wisp 
held stiffly erect. 

The bear had been feeding on the body of my goat, 
which lay far out on the slide-rock, and she had eaten 
all that her stomach could contain. There being still a 
good quantity of pickings remaining, she had decided to 
bury it, but from much feeding was very lazy in carry- 
ing out this intention. She had, however, torn up and 
carried out about twenty mouthfuls of moss, earth and 
plant-roots, and dropped them, together with half a 
dozen sticks, upon the remains. It was in an interval of 
rest from this arduous labor that we first sighted the ani- 
mal ; and she was starting up to fetch down more mate- 
rial when I first fired at her. I photographed the bear's 
cache, but on the films the cache failed to appear. 

At last we finished our work, packed the bear-skin 
and some of the best of the meat upon one of our horses, 
and started for camp, riding turn about. We rolled in 
just before sunset, tired, but puffed up. Mr. Phillips 
was there; and when he was finally convinced that we 
really had seen a silver-tip, and shot at it, and brought 




The Scene of Two Actions — Goats and Grizzly 

1. Where we fired from, at the goats. 

2. What Mr. Phillips's goat did. 

3. What the author's goat did. 

4. Where the grizzly was. 

5. Where we were. 

6. Where the grizzly died. 

7. The grizzly's cache. 



MY GRIZZLY-BEAR DAY 171 

back its skin and skull, his surprise and delight were not 
to be restrained. We danced around the camp-fire, and 
" Ki-yi-yied," in a wild-Indian fashion that in grown 
men is most undignified and reprehensible, anywhere 
east of the Missouri River. 

The bear was not our only cause for singing a war- 
song. Mr. Phillips had shot — but why spoil a good 
story? 



CHAPTER XII 

NOTES ON THE GRIZZLY BEAR 

Rarity of the Grizzly in the United States — Seasons — The Grizzly 
Bear's Calendar — Solitary Habits — Food of Grizzlies — A Carrion 
Feeder— Weight of Grizzlies— " Grizzly" or " Silver-Tip"— Re- 
strictions in Killing. 

In the United States, outside the Yellowstone Park 
and the Bitter Root Mountains, grizzly bears are now 
so very rare that it is almost impossible for a sportsman 
to go out and kill one, no matter where he hunts, and no 
matter how much money he spends. One of our best- 
known writers on hunting matters, who has hunted in 
the West at frequent intervals during the past fifteen 
years, recently announced that he has now given up all 
hope of killing a grizzly in our own country, and has 
turned to British Columbia. 

In British Columbia you can find grizzlies, provided 
you know when to go, and with whom to go. But the 
autumn is not the best season for finding bears in that 
country. If you would see the wild and untamed silver- 
tip, in the high altitudes, go in the spring, for that is the 
real season for hunting this grand species. Even then, 
you may hunt, as did Mr. Phillips's brother Robert, " for 
. forty days, straight," without a sight of a silver-tip, or 
a shot; but if you are lucky, you may bag two in a month. 

In the course of our camp-fire talk about bears and 

other animals, we had a symposium on the habits of the 

17* 



NOTES ON THE GRIZZLY BEAR 173 

grizzly at the various seasons of the year. To this all 
the old grizzly hunters — Charlie Smith, Mr. Phillips, 
and the two Norboes, — contributed; and I pieced to- 
gether their individual statements, and made up this 

GRIZZLY BEAR'S CALENDAR 

January. — About January 20th the cubs are born, in 
the winter den. Usually they are two in number, crudely 
formed, and almost hairless. They are about ten inches 
long, weigh about eighteen ounces, and are blind, and 
extremely helpless. The mother coils herself around 
them, moves not for many days, and the helpless little 
creatures are almost as much enfolded as if they were 
in an abdominal pouch. In the New York Zoological 
Park the period of gestation of the Colorado grizzly is 
two hundred and sixty-six days, or from April 22d to 
January 13th. 

May. — In British Columbia a few grizzlies come out 
as early as May 1, but the majority appear about the 
20th. Their first spring food is the roots of the snow- 
lily, which is found growing on the snow slides. Be- 
sides this the grizzly eats other plants, of a dozen or 
more species, and also grass that is young and tender. 

As soon as they emerge from their winter den they 
begin to rub their backs against trees, to scratch them- 
selves, and they keep it up until the old hair is all off. 
Shedding begins early in June, and lasts until August 1. 

June and July. — During these months the bears range 
far and wide, the cubs following at the heels of the 
mother, searching for edible grubs and roots. In their 



174 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

search for edible insects, they overturn stones and tear 
old logs to pieces. Under every third stone (in suitable 
situations), a nest of ants is found; and these are greatly 
relished. To a bear, those sour and acidulous insects are 
much the same as pickles are to the human palate. The 
grizzly hunts up and devours all animals killed by snow- 
slides. Mr. Phillips once knew a dead pack-rat to be 
eaten. In the Bush River country, Charlie Smith saw 
the remains of a grizzly that had been killed by a snow- 
slide, and afterward had been dug out and eaten by an- 
other grizzly! 

By the end of July the shedding of the old coat of 
hair is completed, and the silver-tip stands forth clad in 
a glossy new suit of dark brown, several shades darker 
than the old coat. It is very short, however, even in 
comparison with the September coat. 

August. — In the valleys of the large rivers, berries 
begin to ripen, and the bears at once begin to feed upon 
them. Naturally the berries of the lowest and warmest 
valleys are the first to mature; and as the season advances, 
the boundary-line of the ripening fruit extends higher 
and higher up the mountains. In the highest valleys and 
mountains the berries do not ripen until September, just 
before the first heavy fall of snow. Strawberries come 
first, but they are so thinly scattered the total amount of 
food they furnish is small. Next comes the saskatoon, 
or service-berry, which is an important item of food, and 
whenever ripe is much sought by bears. They last so 
late into September that they detain the bears in the 
valleys of the large rivers when otherwise the animals 



NOTES ON THE GRIZZLY BEAR 175 

would go up into the mountains to feed on huckleberries, 
and be shot. 

September. — It is in this month that the bears take 
on the greatest amount of fat, for winter use. By Sep- 
tember 15 the pelage is quite long, faultless in texture, 
and very richly colored. Of the five species of huckle- 
berries and blueberries that grow in the mountains, two 
are large and fine, and furnish an excellent supply of 
bear food. This is the month of bear migration, from 
the lower valleys upward, feeding on berries all the way. 
The earlier the coming of the first heavy snowfall, the 
earlier the migration. When the bears cannot get huc- 
kleberries, they eat black currants, but not with great 
relish, because they are rather bitter. The root of a 
" wild-pea vine " (Hedysarum) is eaten with great rel- 
ish. It tastes precisely like green-pea pods, and is really 
very palatable. When the root is chewed, its residuum 
is tough and woody, but the outside is gelatinous, like 
slippery-elm bark. 

October. — After the berries are gone, the grizzlies dig 
for "gophers" (Citellus columbianus), and for Hedys- 
arum roots, until the ground freezes to such a depth that 
they cannot break through it. When digging becomes 
impossible, the bears seek their winter dens, and hibernate. 

At most seasons of the year the male grizzly bear is 
a solitary creature. As a rule, the only individuals found 
living together are the mother and cubs. Occasionally 
it happens that the yearling cubs remain with their 
mother for some months after the birth of their sue- 



176 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

cessors, but the eighteen-months-old cub usually is found 
quite alone. 

It often happens, however, that in the height of the 
berry season, six or seven bears may be found together 
in the same berry-patch; but this does not mean that all 
those individuals had been living together. Mr. W. H. 
Wright, a very successful bear-hunter, once killed seven 
bears in one day; and Prof. L. L. Dyche once saw 
on the head of the Pecos River, in New Mexico, seven 
grizzlies travelling together. But such occurrences are 
very rare exceptions, and the rule is exactly the reverse. 
Mr. Phillips once found two sets of tracks showing how 
one bear had chased another out of his territory. 

Like the wolves of the North-west, the grizzly bears 
of to-day know well that a deadly rifle is the natural 
corollary to a man. Nine grizzlies out of every ten will 
run the moment a man is discovered, no matter what the 
distance may be from bear to man. The tenth will 
charge you, fearlessly, especially if you make your attack 
from below. It is said that a wounded grizzly always 
runs down hill; and this may account for some charges 
toward hunters below, which might not have taken place 
had the hunter been off to one side. 

It must be borne in mind that the grizzly feeds ac- 
cording to the bill of fare available in his locality at a 
given time. In some localities he feeds upon salmon, the 
bulbs of various plants, and even upon grass ; but wher- 
ever found, he is fond of berries. 

He is not a proud feeder. He turns up his nose at 
nothing that he can chew and assimilate, except skunks 



NOTES ON THE GRIZZLY BEAR 177 

and porcupines. According to the needs of the hour, he 
feeds upon the best or the worst. Beyond doubt, he pre- 
fers an elk, fat, fresh and rilling ; but when hunger plucks 
vulture-like at his vitals, he will not disdain to pick a 
dead and bloated pack-rat out of a snowslide and put 
it where he thinks it will do the most good. 

The carrion state does not bother him in the least, if 
he is hungry. Most impartially he cleans up the car- 
casses of big game left by the hunter. He has been 
known to eat the flesh of his own kind, which surely is 
in very bad taste, ethically, but otherwise it is not so bad 
in him as in the hunters who sometimes devour his hams, 
regardless of their origin. 

Occasionally a grizzly will feed on a carcass in the 
daytime, but the majority wisely defer their visits until 
nightfall, and retire before dawn. Many a hunter has 
tried to kill a grizzly over the remains of a horse spe- 
cially slaughtered as a bait, but none of my bear-hunting 
friends ever have succeeded in killing a grizzly by that 
plan. Usually the bear comes only in the darkness, or 
else remains away altogether. 

I believe that nearly every time the weight of a griz- 
zly bear is estimated, it is greatly over-estimated. The 
size of a stretched skin, and the length of the pelage in 
the winter season, always suggests an animal larger and 
heavier than the reality. Trim down every " estimate " 
fully one-third, and you will have something near the 
proper figure. In bear-guessing errors, the writer is no 
exception. Bears always have seemed to me much larger 
than the cold and unimaginative scales show them to be. 



178 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Both in the United States and British Columbia, the 
grizzly bears of to-day are not extremely large. I think 
the bears that do mature are killed by hunters before 
they have lived the seven years that are necessary to the 
production of specimens of the largest size. To-day, 
any grizzly that will weigh seven hundred and fifty 
pounds may fairly be called a very large one. Those 
which will weigh a thousand pounds are now as rare as 
white buffaloes. I never have seen, and never expect to 
see, a one-thousand-pound grizzly. The largest indi- 
vidual that I ever knew to be weighed was one that died 
in Lincoln Park, Chicago, and which was found, by 
Mr. G. O. Shields, to weigh eleven hundred and fifty- 
three pounds. By old hunters it was " estimated " at 
eighteen hundred pounds. So far as I can learn, the 
Rocky Mountains have not produced during the past ten 
years a wild grizzly actually weighing, on scales, over 
seven hundred and fifty pounds. The great majority of 
the largest specimens killed and weighed during the last 
twenty years have weighed between five hundred and six 
hundred pounds ; but records of actual weights, on scales, 
are very, very rare. 

In the Zoological Park at New York, we have had 
grizzly bears coming from Chihuahua, Mexico, from 
Colorado, Wyoming and White Horse, Yukon Terri- 
tory. Between all these there can be discerned no ex- 
ternal differences. I believe they all belong to the same 
species, straight Ursus horribilis. Just where the griz- 
zlies of the far north are met by the Alaskan brown 
bears, no one is as yet able to say. Mr. J. W. Tyrrell 



NOTES ON THE GRIZZLY BEAR 179 

found the Barren Ground grizzly about one hundred 
miles east of the eastern end of Great Bear Lake. 

There has been much talk in the Colorado mountains, 
and in a few other localities, about the " silver-tip " and 
the " grizzly," and several times I have been asked to 
state the characters of each. Like the continuous and 
ever-tiresome "ibex," — which will not down, — there is 
nothing in this question. A " silver-tip " is a Rocky 
Mountain grizzly, no more, no less. The two are one 
and indivisible, but the coat of the animal varies all the 
way from the gray-washed " bald-faced " grizzly to the 
darkest of the dark-brown individuals, which in Novem- 
ber are sometimes of a dark chocolate-brown color. 

I have tried in vain to find constant characters in the 
claws of grizzly bears, but each time I have concluded 
that I had found out something that was constant, im- 
mediately the old material has been discredited by new, 
and I now am as far as ever from a permanent conclu- 
sion. Some grizzlies have very long claws, that are 
strongly curved, and again others have claws that are 
rather short and blunt. They vary greatly, according to 
conditions, and the uses to which they have been put. 

To-day there is in the United States only one locality 
wherein wild grizzlies exist in any number, and that is 
the remote fastnesses of the Bitter Root Mountains of 
Idaho, known as the Clearwater country. Mr. W. H. 
Wright knows where there are bears, but the mountains 
are so steep, and the brush so thick, it is not every sports- 
man who can get a shot, even when grizzlies are seen. 
Of course every one knows of the tame grizzlies of the 



180 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Yellowstone Park, and the very few wild ones immedi- 
ately around that reservation. 

For several reasons, I am totally opposed to the trap- 
ping of grizzlies for their skins, to poisoning them, and 
to permitting any hunter to kill more than one grizzly 
per year. In other words, I think the time has come to 
protect this animal, at least everywhere south of lati- 
tude 54 . As a state asset, every live, wild grizzly of 
adult size is worth from $300 to $500, and as a hunter's 
grand object, it is worth much more. The trapping 
and poisoning of this noble animal should be prohibited, 
at once, throughout the whole United States and south- 
ern British Columbia; and this prohibition should stand 
forever. It is folly for Idaho, Colorado, Wyoming or 
New Mexico, to permit the killing of a five-hundred- 
dollar silver-tip for a twenty-dollar skin; and every 
guide should know this without being told. Moreover, 
the slaughter of half a dozen grizzlies by one man in a 
single season is far worse for the big-game interests of 
America than the killing of that number of bull elk. 

Eliminate the bears from the Canadian Rockies, and 
a considerable percentage of the romance and wild 
charm which now surrounds them like a halo, will be 
gone. So long as grizzlies remain to make awesome 
tracks and dig " gophers," just so long will brain-weary 
men take the long trail to find them, climb mountains 
until they are half-dead of precious physical fatigue, and 
whether they kill grizzlies or not, they will return like 
new men, vowing that they have had the grandest of all 
outings. 



CHAPTER XIII 

PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT AT SIX FEET 

Wild-Animal Photography — A Subject on the Crags — At the Head of 
the Grand Slide — The Billy Goat at Bay — Exposures at Six Feet 
— The Glaring Eyes of the Camera Stops a Charge — At Last 
the Subject Stands Calmly and looks Pleasant — In Peril from a 
" Dead " Knee — A Sleepless Night from the Perils of the Day. 

At last the camera has fully and fairly captured the 
elusive, crag-defying Rocky Mountain goat. Oreamnos 
has stood for his picture, at short range, looking pleasant 
and otherwise, and the pictures call for neither an " if " 
nor an apology. They are all that the most ambitious 
wild-animal photographer could reasonably desire. 

In photographing rare wild animals in their haunts, 
the camera always begins at long range and reduces the 
focal distance by slow, and sometimes painful degrees. 
To the difficulties always present in photographing a 
large wild animal in its haunts must be added the dan- 
gerous crag-climbing necessary in securing fine pictures 
of the mountain goat. 

So far as I know, the first photographs ever made 
of Oreamnos in his native haunts were taken by the late 
E. A. Stanfield, on the rock walls of the Stickine River, 
northern British Columbia, in 1898, not far from where 
he afterward lost his life in that dangerous stream. This 
was a single negative showing two goats in the middle 
distance, and three others, far away, sticking against the 



1 82 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

side of what appeared to be a perfectly smooth wall of 
rock several hundred feet high. 

After that came three or four pictures of goats taken 
in timber, on level ground, and amid surroundings that 
seemed more suitable for white-tailed deer than crag- 
climbing goats. The distance was so great that it was 
only when the negatives were much enlarged that the 
goats became interesting. 

On both sides of our ideally beautiful camp in the 
head of Avalanche Valley, the mountains rose steeply 
and far. First came the roof slopes, a mile from bottom 
to top, their faces seamed with parallel " slides " and 
ribbed with the ridges of rock and points of moss-green 
timber that climbed up between them. Above all that 
rose the long stretches of crag and rock wall, crowned 
by peak, " dome," and " saddle." 

From bottom to top we scanned the slide-ways for 
grizzly bears feeding on berries, or digging roots. We 
watched the grassy belt just below the cliff-foot for 
mountain sheep. Goats we saw up there, daily, in little 
groups of three to five; but we had resolutely drawn our 
firing-line at three goats each. 

But there was one old billy who fascinated us all. 
When we looked out of our tents on our first morning 
in that camp, he was calmly lying upon a ledge at the foot 
of the cliff immediately above us, near a bank of per- 
petual snow. For two days he remained there, at the 
same elevation, moving neither north nor south more 
than three hundred yards. When hungry, he came 
down to the foot of the cliff and fed on the tender plants 




The Haunt of the Camera Goat 

The goat was photographed on the steep rocks shown on the left, at the point indicated. 
Taken at a distance of two miles across Avalanche Valley. 



PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT 183 

that grew at timber-line, then climbed back to his favor- 
ite contour line, to lie and doze away the hours. 

That goat seemed so sociable that finally we began 
to regard him as one of us, and we scrutinized him and 
apostrophized him to our heart's content. On the fourth 
morning, the beautifully clear sky and faultless atmos- 
phere revealed a rare opportunity. While the cook was 
putting the finishing touches to an inspiring breakfast 
of fried mule-deer steaks and other luxuries, those of 
us who had most quickly succeeded in finding the clean 
spots on the camp towels took our usual early-morning 
gaze at " that old goat." (Ye gods! How glorious was 
the crisp air, the spruce-woods odor, the crackle and 
snap of the camp-fire, and the golden glow of sunrise on 
the western peaks and precipices! That was life, — with- 
out a flaw.) 

As we gathered around our standing-lunch breakfast 
table, I remarked to Mr. Phillips that it would be a 
glorious feat to secure some really fine photographs of 
that billy goat in his natural environment. Turning to 
his side partner, Mr. Phillips said very positively, 

" Mack, it is up to the unscientific section to get those 
pictures! " 

" I dunno about them environments," answered Mack 
slowly, while he steered a long line of condensed cream 
into his coffee-cup, " but we can shore git a boxful of 
scenery up thar. We never yet shot a full-grown billy 
with a camery; and they're mighty onsartin critters. If 
we corral him too close, he'll like as not go vicious, and 
knock us clean off the mountain." 



1 84 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

We soon saw that an attempt would be made to round 
up that goat somewhere, somehow, and take a picture 
of him at short range. In a few minutes we invented 
a wigwag code of signals by which the cook was to 
signal at intervals, with a clean towel on the end of a 
fossil tepee-pole, the position of the goat. Mr. Phillips 
and Mack Norboe made ready for the event, and with 
Kaiser to assist in manipulating the goat, presently 
set out. 

Mr. Phillips dislikes writing about his adventures, 
but in view of the fact that he alone is able to relate the 
occurrences of that day, I prevailed upon him to write 
out the following account of that daring and dangerous 
episode. Had I known on that morning the risks that 
he would run on those cliffs, hanging by one hand on a 
knife-edge of rotten rock with an angry goat at a near- 
ness of six feet and threatening to knock him off into mid- 
air, I would not for any number of photographs have 
encouraged the enterprise. It was only the merciful 
Providence which sometimes guards insane camera 
enthusiasts which prevented a frightful tragedy; for it 
is well known throughout the goat country that an old 
male goat cornered on a ledge will fight dog or man. 

In order to assist the photographers to the utmost, 
Charlie Smith and I considerately went bear-hunting; 
and this is Mr. Phillips's account of how the goat pictures 
were obtained: 

" Shortly after twelve o'clock, Mack and I started for 
the goat that had been hanging out above our camp. We 
took my stereoscopic camera, Charlie Smith's four-by-five 



PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT 185 

camera, the dog, and my big gun in order to kill the goat 
if he attacked me. 

" After crossing the narrow flat of Avalanche Creek, 
we struck up the long, grassy slide directly opposite our 
camp. At first its slope was about twenty degrees, but 
this gradually increased until finally, where it struck the 
slide-rock, it almost stood on end. We reached the slide- 
rock about 2 P.M., after which the going was harder than 
ever. Gradually we worked our way out of the slide on 
to a high, rocky point which rose toward the south. 

" Although lightly clad, we were by that time very 
warm. I had taken off my hunting shirt, and hung it upon 
my back, and opened the sides of my knickerbockers. 
Inside and out, we needed all the air we could get. I 
wore that day a pair of light golf shoes with rubber soles, 
tipped at the toes and heels with leather in which were 
fixed some small steel nails. These soles were very flex- 
ible, and adjusted themselves so well to the inequalities of 
the rocks that I could jump, and stick where I lit. Mack 
said : ' With them foot-riggin's, you shore kin go whar 
a bar kin! ' Mack was not so well equipped as to foot- 
gear, having on an old pair of shoes with turned-up toes, 
set with nails that were much worn. This handicapped 
him on the bare rocks. 

" ' It's about time Cookie wiggled that rag, to show 
us whar that goat is,' said Mack as we seated ourselves 
to rest, and took out our glasses. 

" Sure enough. In a few minutes we saw Huddleston 
out on the green flat in front of the tents, waving vigor- 
ously; and from his signals we knew that the goat was 



1 86 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

still there, toward the south, and above us. We decided 
that the Director's semaphore system was a good thing. 

" We knew that our best chance for success lay in 
getting above the goat, to prevent his escape to the peaks, 
then in cornering him, somewhere. After a long diag- 
onal climb we found ourselves under the wall of the 
snow-capped mountain, which rose sheer up two hundred 
feet or more, then rounded off into a dome going about 
three hundred feet higher. Now, just here we found 
a very strange feature of mountain work. A great rock 
buttress stretched along the foot of the mountain wall, 
originally continuous, and several hundred feet long. 
But somehow a big section had been riven out of the mid- 
dle of that ridge, going quite down to the general face 
of that mountain-side, like a railway cut standing almost 
on end. This central cut-out section is now the head 
of a big slide, five hundred feet wide at the cliff, from 
which it descends at a fearful pitch. 

" This slide is now bounded at the top by two ridges 
of rock, each with a steep wall facing the gap. The 
space lying between these walls is filled with masses of 
frost-riven rock, from the peak above, varying in size 
from dust to rocks the size of a freight car. The weight 
and momentum of the larger rocks had carried them well 
down the mountain, and some of them were so evenly 
balanced that it seemed as if a touch would be sufficient 
to send them thundering on. 

"We stood on the top of the northern ridge, close under 
the foot of the cliff, and looked down the rock wall which 
dropped almost perpendicularly to the slide-way far 




The Face of the Precipice from Below, with Goat in situ 



PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT 187 

below. On the south side of the slide rose a ridge very 
similar to the one on which we stood. 

" From the signals Huddleston made at that time, 
we knew that the goat was below us. ' Thar he is, now! ' 
exclaimed Mack, pointing down our ridge, and looking 
as he pointed I saw the animal about one hundred and 
fifty yards below us on a point of rock overhanging the 
slide. He was staring down toward our camp, as if he 
saw Huddleston and his signals, but I doubt if he did 
see our cook, for without glasses the distance was too 
great. 

" Up to that moment, our dog Kaiser had been obe- 
diently following at our heels. Then we showed him the 
goat, and explained to him what we desired. He seemed 
to quite understand what we wished him to do. Leaving 
us at once, he silently worked his way down over the 
rocks, and in three or four minutes jumped the goat. 
And then pandemonium broke loose. Kaiser barked ex- 
citedly, Mack rolled stones, and I yelled. 

" The goat was very much surprised by all this noise, 
and the sudden assault of the dog. Seeing that his retreat 
to the upper sanctuary of the cliffs was effectually cut 
off, he bounded like a great ball of cotton down the 
almost perpendicular wall of the cliff, into the slide-way 
two hundred feet below. To get down safely after his 
game, Kaiser had to hunt for stairs, and before he reached 
the bottom the goat was well across the slide. 

" In the meantime I had scrambled down the rocks 
into the head of the slide, and found that although it 
pitched at a frightful angle, I could get footing close 



188 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

under the sheer mountain wall, so I ran and scrambled 
across, jumping over some waterworn fissures. When I 
reached the opposite wall, I saw the goat below me com- 
ing up the ridge. Owing to the shape of the slide, I had 
travelled only one-third the distance covered by the goat. 

" Seeing me above him, the goat thought he was 
again cut off from the mountain, and so sought safety 
on the face of the wall that overhung the slide. He did 
not realize that he could easily have passed me by going 
up the ridge before I could head him off. 

" Seeing that the goat was safe for the moment, I 
thought of Mack, and fearing that he had fallen, went 
back. I found him at the bottom of one of the water- 
worn fissures. It was too wide for him to jump, so he 
had gone down into the rock crevasse, and when I found 
him he was on his hands and knees; and no wonder. 
The bottom was worn quite smooth, and pitched down 
at an angle of about sixty degrees. When he heard me 
he looked up, and said : ' I wisht I had some of the 
legs them octopuses had that the Professor was tellin' 
us about! I'd shore rope myself over this ditch!' 

" When finally Mack crawled out of his trouble, we 
went over and looked at the goat. I took a picture of 
him from the slide, then leaving Mack in the slide with 
my gun, I worked my way with the cameras out up on 
the ridge, and finally secured a position above the goat. 

" I found him standing on a ledge about eighteen 
inches wide, backed against a slight projection on the 
face of the cliff, which cut the ledge off. The ledge 
rose at rather a steep incline for about twenty feet up to 




Copyright, 1905, by John M. Phillips. 

The Goat on the Stratified Rock 

Looking toward Avalanche Creek. 



PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT 189 

the level on which I stood. The goat was about eight feet 
below me, while below him was a sheer drop of a hun- 
dred and fifty feet or more, down to the slide- rock. 

" He was a very large goat, weighing, I should say, 
fully three hundred pounds. He had a magnificent* pair 
of horns, fully ten inches long. I was surprised to note 
that he did not show the least sign of panic, or even fear. 
He looked up at me quite calmly, and then, ignoring me 
entirely, solemnly and serenely gazed out over the crags 
below. 

" After a few trials from above I found it impossible 
to get a good picture of him without getting much 
nearer; so I yelled down to Mack: l I'm going down to 
him. If he charges me, you must kill him, in a hurry.' 

" Setting the focus of my stereo camera for six feet, 
and placing the bulb in my mouth, I gradually worked 
my way down the ledge, carrying my camera in one hand 
and holding to the wall with the other. When I was 
within about twelve feet of him, Mack yelled to me : 

" ' Look out thar! He's a- raisin' his tail, like a buf- 
falo bull! He's goin' to knock you off!' 

" Mack was raised in Texas, with the buffalo, and 
diagnosed the case correctly. The very next instant, so 
it seemed to me, the goat came at me, head and tail up, 
ears drooped forward and eyes blazing green. He came 
with a bouncing rush, hammering the stones with his 
front feet so that the loose ones flew like broken ice. I 
was taken completely by surprise, for I did not think 
that on a ledge so narrow an animal could or would 
charge me. 



1 90 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

" I was perfectly helpless, for I could not step aside, 
and it was impossible for me to back quickly up that 
steep and narrow shelf. The goat was too quick for 
Mack, for I heard him yell, in great alarm, * I can't 
shoot, or I'll hit ye both! ' 

" Mack told me afterward that he dared not shoot 
from where he was, for fear the heavy ball would go 
through the goat, glance against the rock, and either kill 
me or throw me off the ledge. I was terribly frightened, 
but mechanically snapped the camera when the goat was 
about six feet away. There was really nothing that I 
could do except to hold the camera at him, and snap it. 

" He charged up to within a yard of me, but with 
his eyes fixed on the two lenses. Then he appeared to 
conclude that any animal that could stand that much 
without winking was too much for him, so shaking his 
head and gritting his teeth he stopped, and to my great 
relief slowly backed into his niche. 

" Believing that he would not charge the camera, I 
followed him down, and secured a picture of him at six 
feet. Then Mack began to see more symptoms of trou- 
ble, and since I had exposed my last film I backed out. 
Then I remembered the four-by-five camera, and started 
down with it, but Mack yelled angrily: 

"'Hold on there! That goat's plumb dangerous, 
and if you start down there again, I'll shorely kill him! 
What's the use o' bein' locoed an' gettin' killed fer a 
few picters? ' 

" Mack was so wrought up that to save the goat 
I abandoned my intention; and when he finally joined 



PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT 191 

me, we slipped another roll of films into the stereo 
camera. 

" Just as we finished our reloading operation, Kaiser 
took a look down at the goat, at very close range, when 
all of a sudden, like a Jack-in-the-box, the old billy was 
up from the ledge and after him. Kaiser ran to us 
for protection, the goat charging after him, most deter- 
minedly. Mack and I yelled, and waved our arms, and 
finally turned the goat down over the point, this time 
with Kaiser chasing him. 

" They were soon out of our sight, but we could hear 
the rocks rolling below, and knew that they were going 
back across the slide. So we slid off the crags into the 
head of the slide, and running across at some risk to our 
necks, finally turned the goat on to a small pinnacle, 
about where we first jumped him. 

" It was here that I secured some of my best pictures. 
Mack, perched on the top of the crag, attracted the goat's 
attention and tantalized him by waving his hat, while 
I made pictures as fast as possible. We had to keep 
Kaiser in the background, for apparently the goat blamed 
him for all his troubles, and I believe Billy was mad 
enough at that time to charge the dog through fire. 

" My footing was very insecure, and being obliged to 
hold on with one hand and watch the goat in fear that 
he would charge me, I could not use the finder of my 
camera. Once as the goat charged up the rock at Mack 
I got in close to him, when he suddenly turned on me, 
gritting his teeth as he did so. His lip protruded like 
the lower lip of a charging bear, and with his front feet 



1 92 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

he stamped on the rocks until the small, loose fragments 
flew in every direction. 

" It was just then that I got my best snapshot from in 
front, although the picture fails to show his ugly temper 
as I saw it. As I rolled in another film he charged me. 
Unfortunately I was so scared that I did not have pres- 
ence of mind to press the bulb at the right distance. He 
bounced up to within four feet of me, when again the 
two big, glaring eyes of the camera fascinated and 
checked him. Just as he turned his head from the un- 
winking eyes of my stereo, I snapped it, but he was inside 
the focus. 

" At that instant Kaiser, who had escaped from 
Mack's surveillance, appeared below me, and the goat 
immediately charged down upon him. Kaiser cleverly 
eluded him, and then the goat went on down into the 
slide, running diagonally across it to a rocky point 
beyond, where we again rounded him up. And then I 
discovered that my stereo camera was out of films! 

" Regardless of the severity of the climb down to 
camp and back again, Mack insisted upon making the 
trip and bringing me more films, and immediately 
started. 

" It was my duty to hold the goat at bay as best I could 
during the two hours' interval that I knew must elapse. 
The animal was then standing on the side of what seemed 
to me a sheer cliff, and when I slowly climbed down to 
look at him, he quite ignored me. Finding a sheltered 
niche in the cliff a hundred feet above him, I donned 
my hunting shirt and sat down to watch and wait. 




Copyright, 1905, by John M. Phillips. 

An Angry Mountain Goat at Close Quarters 

Distance four feet ; inside the focus. After cha-ging so near he concluded to halt and back up to his first position. 



PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT 193 

" It was then about 3 P.M., and there followed a long, 
cold interval. Once Kaiser created a diversion by zig- 
zaging down and taking another peep at his enemy, who 
immediately scrambled up the rocks at him, as fast as he 
could come. Kaiser retreated in good order, but soon 
turned and barked defiantly at the goat. After this 
futile charge, the goat backed away until his hindquarters 
hung over the cliff; then he charged a second time. 
Apparently he was determined to kill the dog, and rushed 
after him again and again. The goat would raise his 
tail, throw his ears forward, and without lowering his 
head go bounding stiff-legged after the dog like a buck- 
ing broncho. At times it seemed as if his object was to 
trample the dog rather than horn him, but Kaiser was 
quick enough, and easily dodged his rushes. Then the 
old goat would stand and glare at him, gritting his teeth 
and sometimes sticking his tongue out, the personifica- 
tion of anger. It was a most interesting performance, 
and in spite of being very cold I was fascinated by it. 

" About six o'clock I heard rocks rolling in the slide 
far below me, and knew that Mack was coming. Then 
I decided to get a better view of the trouble between the 
goat and the dog, and crawled down to the point on 
which the fight was taking place. I worked down within 
twenty feet of the goat, when suddenly he whirled and 
came at me. I pointed my rifle at him and yelled, hop- 
ing to frighten him. He came within six feet of me, 
and I was about to fire when Kaiser barked close behind 
him. The goat turned so quickly he almost trampled 
the dog, who dodged under him and ran to me! 



i 9 4 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

" Fortunately I was above the goat, and finding that 
the odds were against him he bounded off the point, and 
once more fled for the slide. This was the maddest race 
of all, for it called for quick work to get across the top 
of the slide in time to head off the goat. On that fright- 
ful pitch every jump I made loosened stones which dis- 
lodged others, and they went rolling and rumbling down 
the slide. The dog and goat also started their full quota 
of rocks, and for a time it seemed as if the whole moun- 
tain-side were moving. But I succeeded in heading off 
the goat, and clambered up on the wall above him. 

" A few minutes later Mack joined me, and as he 
wiped the beads of perspiration from his shiny bald head, 
I said to him : ' Did you see the beautiful race we had 
across the slide? ' c Didn't see nothin',' he answered with 
an air of irritation. ' I thought everything had broken 
loose up here, and I was too busy dodgin' rocks to care 
who won any race. You-alls shore tore up the scenery! ' 

" After placing a new roll in the camera I crawled 
around on the hanging wall, and secured a very good 
picture of the goat. As I closed in he started to retreat, 
but by following him up I secured a picture as he was 
getting away. Then Mack headed him once more, on 
the farther side of the cliff, when he took refuge in a 
niche near the top of the wall. 

" As we approached him from above, he again got 
his eyes on Kaiser, and charged up through the group 
which we three made. Fortunately Kaiser engaged his 
attention, which enabled Mack and me to head him 
and drive him back. For a time we lost him on the 




n 

to 

.5 

15 

6 
U 

o 

H 



PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT 195 

crags below. Presently, however, I found him standing 
on a wall which jutted out of the cliff on the north side 
of the great slide. At that point, the cliff towered up 
perpendicularly a hundred feet above the slide, and the 
goat was about twenty feet from the top, standing on a 
small projecting edge of rock that looked like a peg 
driven in the wall. 

" At first it seemed utterly impossible to get a pic- 
ture there, but on studying the rocks a little, I thought 
I saw a way. Leaving Mack above to watch, I crawled 
down to a point almost over the goat, where I found that 
the mountain-side pitched down at an angle of at least 
thirty degrees, increasing to sixty, and ending in a sheer 
drop of a hundred feet or more. The rock was strati- 
fied, dipping toward the valley, like the slates on a roof. 
The layers varied from the thickness of ordinary roof- 
slates to three or four inches. Much of this was loose, 
and had to be removed before I could get a footing. 

" As I worked down, I started quite an avalanche 
of stone, and held my breath while I heard it go rum- 
bling into the depths below. Just as I was thinking of 
going back, Mack called out, loudly and anxiously: ' Say, 
Jack! Is that you? ' ' No,' I said, ' it's only rock.' ' I 
thought you had shore ruined the mountain that time.' 
He tried to appear unconcerned, but by his voice I could 
tell how he felt. 

" At last I succeeded in working over to the edge of 
the cliff, and found myself on a level with the goat, and 
only eight feet away. It was as if he stood on a window 
sill on the gable end of a house, while I hung upon the 



1 96 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

corner of the slate roof. By reaching far down with 
my left foot I succeeded in getting one good foot-hold, 
but I had to double my other leg under me and lean 
forward upon my knee. After considerable work I broke 
off pieces of rotten rock, and built up a fair sort of a 
camera rest, supporting half of it upon my knee. The 
top slab of my stone-pile projected beyond the face of 
the cliff, so that between goat and camera there was no 
obstruction whatever. 

" To my amazement and joy, during all this time the 
goat paid no attention to me, but stood there as calm and 
cool as an icicle. He really seemed to be enjoying his 
view of the scenery. 

" After I had my camera set, I took a picture of him 
with his head slightly turned away, then I began to talk 
to him in a soothing voice, calling to him, ' Hey, Billy! ' 
when he deigned to turn his head and look at me. Mack 
heard me talking to him, and called down, — as evidence 
that he was near, — ' He don't know his name ! You 
might as well call him Mike! ' 

" This was the best chance I had with that animal ; 
but by that time it was late and the light was not very 
favorable. However, I gave him time exposures, and 
got some very fair results. Every now and then the old 
fellow would stick out his tongue at me, and once I took 
a snapshot expressly to show that, but the result was not 
very good. 

" After using up the six films in the camera, I swung 
it on my back and attempted to edge back from the face 
of the precipice. Then to my dismay I discovered that 




Drawn by Charles B. Hudson. 



Mr. Phillips's Most Dangerous Position 



PHOTOGRAPHING A MOUNTAIN GOAT 197 

the bent knee on which I had been resting was as dead 
as if permanently paralyzed. It was stiff, and worse than 
useless. I had been frightened two or three times during 
that afternoon, but this was the climax. I called to 
Mack, and told him of the fix I was in, but owing to his 
bad shoes he could not come down to help me. Then I 
was sorry we had not brought a rope. 

" Seeing that I must work out my own salvation I 
began to punch and beat my leg, and kept it up until 
at last the circulation started, and feeling returned. 
Finally I managed to crawl back very slowly to where 
Mack could reach me, and he soon landed me safely upon 
a level spot. 

" While this was going on, the goat got tired of inac- 
tion, jumped up over the wall and started for the peak. 
For some reason, however, he changed his course and 
climbed down into the slide, with the dog after him. 
Expecting to see a good race we stopped to watch it; 
but poor Kaiser's feet were now very sore and the goat 
outran him. And then a queer thing happened. 

" The goat stopped on the farther edge of the slide, 
and finding that his human tormentors were nowhere 
near, he decided to get square with that dog! When 
Kaiser reached him, the goat charged furiously. Seeing 
his danger, the dog turned and started back the way he 
came, with the goat in hot pursuit. The goat pursued 
by a series of short rushes, and not by the steady, straight- 
away run that a bear makes. He followed the dog almost 
to the ridge on which we were, but finally desisted, and 
retreated southward. 



1 98 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

" It was then so late that we started at once for camp 
in order to get off the crags before dark. It grew dark 
before we reached camp, but at last we were guided in by 
the camp-fire, thoroughly exhausted, and half famished' 
for water. I never knew Kaiser to drink so long as then, 
and his feet were so raw and sore that he scarcely could 
bear to have them doctored." 

Mr. Phillips's narrative, as he records it, does not half 
adequately portray the frightful risks that he ran on that 
memorable afternoon. That night, I think he was awake 
all night, save once. Then he threshed around in his 
sleeping-bag, and clutched wildly at the silk tent-roof 
over his head. 

" Hey, John ! " I called out sharply, to waken him. 
" What's the matter? Are you having a nightmare? " 

" Oh! " he groaned. " I thought I was falling off 
those rocks, — clear down to the tents ! " 

Just before breakfast the next morning Mr. Phillips 
said to Mack in a quiet aside, " How did you sleep, 
Mack? " 

"I didn't sleep none!" said Mack, solemnly. 
" Whenever I dozed off I dreamt that old Oramus was 
buttin' us off them rocks. Every time I lit I shore 
made it lively for Charlie." 

They were not the first men whose sleep had been 
destroyed by the recrudescence of the horrors of the 
rocks. 

The next day men and dog rested quietly in camp, too 
tired and sore to move out. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A RAINY DAY IN CAMP 

The Finest of all Camps — A Record-Breaking Cook — Fearful Slaughter 
of Comestibles — Drying Meat from Big Game — A Good Method 
Described — The Norboe Brothers — Trapping on Bull River — The 
Trappers' Bill of Fare — Mack Norboe's Biggest Bear — The Big 
Bear that Got Away. 

THE afternoon of September 16th was dominated by 
misty rain. It was too wet for hunting, but under the 
giant Canadian white-spruce trees which encircled one 
side of our camp, we sat, and spat into the camp-fire, 
and yarned away the hours most comfortably. Big, 
fleecy white clouds from Bull River floated into our val- 
ley, dragged softly along the side of the eastern moun- 
tains, and left the green timber and yellow grass of the 
slides looking like a freshly varnished oil-painting. Our 
horses grazed on the rich meadow in front of the tents, 
snorted with satisfaction, tinkled their bell, and fed until 
they could feed no more. Dog Kaiser appointed himself 
special camp-guard, and whenever a horse crossed his 
dead-line, there was an indignant bark, a bitten pastern, 
a vicious kick in mid-air at a dog that was always six 
inches the other way, and a quick retreat. 

It was a busy day for Huddleston, the cook; for in 

camp, the hunters fancy lightly turns to thoughts of 

199 



aoo CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

grub. When Charlie and I tramped in at one o'clock, 
on account of the rain, the others were all there, and for 
the remainder of the afternoon we snugged down under 
the three big spruces that formed a triangle around our 
camp-fire, and loafed, and invited our souls. 

Were I to hunt a thousand years longer, I think it 
would be impossible to find a more ideal camping-spot 
than that which Mr. Phillips named in my honor. The 
shelter of the beautiful grove of spruces, the magnifi- 
cent mountains within a stone's throw on either hand, 
the long-distance view down the valley to Roth Moun- 
tain and Glacier, the slides, the vegetation of timber- 
line, the water, the wild life, and last but not least, the 
grass for our faithful, never-running-away horses made 
a combination of conditions rarely found in this world. 

To me, the pace set by our chef was highly amusing. 
Never before have I camped with a cook who took his 
job as seriously as did Huddleston. To begin with, he 
was young and vigorous, accustomed to hard work, and 
there was not a shirking bone in his body. He rose in 
the morning, he cooked meals, he washed things, hewed 
wood and drew water as if his life depended upon the 
perfect doing of each section of his daily work. The 
amount of food that he cooked on his folding stove, and 
the quantity of bread that he baked before our camp- 
fire in his jolly little reflector-oven, was simply appall- 
ing. I used to think that my band of rustlers on the 
1886 buffalo hunt ate the most of any human beings I 
ever camped with; but on this last trip, the crowd ate 
more. No doubt it was because we had a greater variety, 



A RAINY DAY IN CAMP 201 

and the temptation was stronger. It will be many a year 
ere I cease to hear Huddleston saying briskly, " Grub's 
ready, gentlemen. Now, which will you have? Coffee, 
tea or chocolate? I've got 'em all! " 

We all believed in having luxurious camp-fires; and 
wood was plentiful and cheap. Each night and morn- 
ing it was a white man's camp-fire, for fair. You know 
the familiar Indian saying current in the West, — " White 
man make heap-big fire, get way off!" It was against 
the rules to cut logs shorter than six feet — save when 
away from home, and camping on a trail. 

From the very first, I began to dry wild meat, after 
a very good fashion which I had learned of my old 
friend L. A. Huffman, away back in the bad-lands of 
Montana. Strange to say, none of the other members 
of our party knew any good method of drying meat, and 
they watched my work with keen interest, and an eye to 
the future. 

The process is so simple a child can use it, and the 
ingredients can be purchased in any frontier store, for a 
few cents. In Michel, I bought half a pound of black 
pepper, an equal quantity of ground allspice, and four 
three-pound bags of fine table-salt. The proportions of 
the mixture I use are: Salt, three pounds; allspice, four 
table-spoonfuls, and black pepper five table-spoonfuls, all 
thoroughly mixed. 

Take a ham of deer, elk, or mountain sheep, or fall- 
killed mountain goat, and as soon as possible after kill- 
ing, dissect the thigh, muscle by muscle. Any one can 
learn to do this by following up with the knife the 



202 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

natural divisions between the muscles. With big game 
like elk, some of the muscles of the thigh are so thick 
they require to be split in two. A piece of meat should 
not exceed five inches in thickness. Skin off all envel- 
oping membranes, so that the curative powder will 
come in direct contact with the raw, moist flesh. The 
flesh must be sufficiently fresh and moist that the pre- 
servative will readily adhere to it. The best size for 
pieces of meat to be cured by this process is not over a 
foot long, by six or eight inches wide and four inches 
thick. 

When each piece has been neatly and skilfully pre- 
pared rub the powder upon every part of the surface, 
and let the mixture adhere as much as it will. Then 
hang up each piece of meat, by a string through a hole 
made in the smaller end, and let it dry in the wind. If 
the sun is hot, keep the meat in the shade; but in the 
north, the sun helps the process. Never let the meat get 
wet. If the weather is rainy for a long period, hang 
your meat-rack where it will get mild heat from the 
camp-fire, but no more smoke than is unavoidable, and 
cover it at night with a piece of canvas. 

Meat thus prepared is not at its best for eating until 
it is about a month old ; then slice it thin. After that no 
sportsman, or hunter, or trapper can get enough of it. 
Wives and sweethearts who love out-doors dote upon it. 
To men who write about nature and animals, each chew 
is a fresh inspiration. 

No; this is not "jerked" meat. It is many times 
better. It is always eaten uncooked, and as a concen- 



A RAINY DAY IN CAMP 203 

trated, stimulating food for men in the wilds, it is valu- 
able. Charlie Smith and the Norboes were emphatic 
in their expressions of regret that they never before had 
known of that process. Said Charlie, ruefully, " Think 
of the good meat, Mack, that we could have saved for 
months on Bull River, that long winter, if we had only 
known about this scheme! We would never have gone 
meat-hungry! " 

There is no question about it. The American trap- 
per has for a century been horribly wasteful of wild life, 
because he did not know how to dry wild meat, easily 
and cheaply. Pemmican is all right; but the making of 
it, on a good, palatable basis, is neither simple nor easy. 

While on this trip I cured for Mr. Phillips and 
myself about forty pounds (when dry) of the meat of 
mountain goat, mule deer, mountain sheep and grizzly 
bear. The mountain goat meat was good, but slightly 
tough in comparison with the other meats. It had not 
the slightest disagreeable flavor, but in spring it is spoiled 
by the flavor of wild onions. All the meat of mountain 
sheep and mule deer was tender and delicious, but that 
of the grizzly bear, when dried, had a queer fishy taste 
that made it unpalatable. The flesh of the mountain 
sheep (Ovis canadensis) and mule deer are so nearly 
identical, both in fibre and in flavor, that in the fall 
months no human palate can distinguish one from the 
other. 

In our small party there were some good story-tellers, 
— " raconteurs " they call them, east of Altoona ; besides 
which, my companions were men who had seen and done 



204 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

many things in the late Wild West. Of Charlie Smith, 
I have already written. The stories he told us of " the 
Bush River country," and of the wilds of Oregon and 
Washington, to say nothing of the Elk River region, 
would make a fascinating book. 

Mack and John Norboe, of Norwegian parentage, 
were born on the plains of Texas, grew up as buffalo- 
hunters, cowboys and Indian fighters, and finally " set- 
tled down " as guides and trappers. Both participated 
in the mad and reckless buffalo slaughter of the early 
seventies, and killed buffaloes of which they cannot now 
be induced to tell. In the days of Apache and Comanche 
Indian troubles, when the murder of settlers' families 
often called for punitive expeditions gathered on short 
notice, they rode and fought Indians with other white 
men who believed in the survival of the fittest. Later 
on, Mack became foreman of a large cattle-ranch, after 
which he fell in with Charlie Smith, and settled down 
permanently as his partner. For six years or more they 
have guided, trapped and hunted together, drawing in 
John Norboe as a special partner whenever circum- 
stances tempted him to come in. 

As a talker, Mack is more reserved than Charlie and 
John, and rarely relates a long story, especially when it 
is possible to put that labor upon his partner. He is a 
bold and successful hunter, and a hardy mountaineer, 
but on dangerous rocks, his nerves are not quite so cold 
as those of his partners. When he is afraid, he does not 
hesitate to say so; which many a pretty gentleman finds 
it very hard to do. 



A RAINY DAY IN CAMP 205 

John R. Norboe is an almost tireless climber, and 
bold on the cliffs, beyond the limit of safety. In the 
telling of stories he is both graphic and picturesque, and 
the manner in which he unconsciously acts out his stories 
is always irresistibly amusing. He is a reasonably ready 
talker, and invariably interesting. In both John and 
Mack the vernacular of the southern cattle-plains was 
strongly in evidence, and it made them all the more 
interesting. 

I mention these three men thus particularly because 
they are to-day successful trappers of fur-bearing ani- 
mals. Even amid the present scarcity of such wild life, 
they are sufficiently wise in wood-craft to make at least 
half their living by trapping marten, wolverine, ermine, 
mink, lynx, and (I regret to say it) bear. In the United 
States the fur-trapper is almost extinct, because there are 
no longer enough fur-bearing animals to make the pur- 
suit interesting. 

I am tempted to add the record of one winter's catch, 
made on Bull River, by the two Norboes alone. From 
September 15th until the middle of the following June, 
they caught 96 marten, 7 wolverines, 4 grizzly bears, 6 
beavers, 10 mink and 1 lynx. During this period they 
consumed the following food: 3 bull elk, 7 goats, 700 
pounds of flour, 200 pounds of sugar, 50 pounds of dried 
fruit, 15 gallons of berries, 30 pounds of coffee and 20 
pounds of rice. 

Let it not be supposed, however, that even in the 
country in which we then were, it is always possible for 
hunters and trappers to supply themselves with wild meat 



io6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

on short notice. In the spring of 1904 when three mem- 
bers of our party, Mr. Phillips, Charlie Smith and Mack 
Norboe, were bear-hunting in the Bull River country, 
they ran out of meat, and became so hungry for that very 
necessary item they flung, appearances to the winds, and 
sent Charlie Smith on snow-shoes over two ranges of 
mountains, thirty miles in and thirty miles back, for a 
ham! That was sufficiently absurd, but the sequel was 
even more so. In order to travel rapidly, and be bur- 
dened with nothing save the ham and his revolver, 
Charlie left his rifle behind. On the return journey he 
was followed up by a grizzly bear which also needed a 
sugar-cured ham! But Charlie was " dead game" and 
even when face to face with the grizzly and with no 
rifle, he refused to jettison his cargo. He finally bluffed 
and eluded the bear, and steered his precious freight 
safely into port, having made that severe round trip in 
two days. 

Mack Norboe has had hundreds of interesting ad- 
ventures, but it is difficult to induce him to tell of one. 
There are men who talk more of their one bear than 
Mack does of his hundred. Only the most skilful stalk- 
ing at the camp-fire ever rounds up an extended narrative 
by him. 

But every man makes exceptions. When the tafk 
turned on the charging habits of grizzlies, a goodly 
amount of silent treatment, backed up by a few well- 
aimed questions, finally brought forth this incident: 




A Rainy Day in Camp 



A RAINY DAY IN CAMP 207 

MACK NORBOE'S BIGGEST BEAR 

" Yes, I've hunted grizzly b'ar and black b'ar in 
Colorado, Wyoming, Montana and British Columbia. 
All told, I think I must have shot up and trapped purty 
nigh on to a hundred; but out of all the grizzlies I've 
shot, and shot at, only one ever really charged me. But 
I don't believe even that one would a-charged me if it 
hadn't been for my dogs. 

" That was in Routt County, Colorado, between the 
White and the B'ar Rivers, in the spring of '91. I think 
there's a family of big b'ar in that country, just as there's 
an outfit of specially big black b'ar here on Elk River. 
In this Colorado country that I'm a-tellin' ye about, there 
was a whalin' big grizzly that they called ' old Jumbo,' 
and he'd been killin' cattle for five or six years. From 
the size of his tracks, everybody knew that he was a 
shore big 'un, but I don't know of any one who had 
seen or shot at him. Sam Ware, who had a cattle-ranch 
on B'ar River, tracked him one day down Crooked-Wash 
Creek, and had Sam run onto him he shore would have 
rounded old Jumbo up, for he was a good shot, and full 
o' sand. 

" Early in the spring I was out with my two fox- 
hounds, runnin' a mountain-lion, but the track was so 
old we didn't jump him. There was considerable snow 
on the ground, and in making a circuit we struck on 
old Jumbo's tracks. Gee! but they were big! He had 
just come out of his winter quarters in the White River 
range, and was pintin' out toward B'ar River. The 



208 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

trail was good and fresh, and I put the dogs right on to 
it. Before they had gone more'n a quarter of a mile, a 
thunderin' racket broke loose, and I was shore that they 
had jumped the b'ar. 

" It was rollin', hilly ground, covered with cedars, 
and the branches hung so low it made it very bad for 
seeing any distance. I pulled my freight toward the 
place where the row was goin' on, but had hardly got 
fairly started when one of the dogs rushed a-past me 
makin' for the rear, with his tail between his legs, and 
his ears a-flappin' up and down like a pair o' bird's 
wings. The b'ar had plumb stampeded him, and I didn't 
see him no more until the next day. 

" I hurried on as fast as I could go, and just as I 
reached the top of a hill that lay ahead of me, here 
comes old Jumbo, just a-tearin' along after my Ponto 
dog; and Ponto was hikin' along in front, barkin' at 
every jump. That old dog shore had plenty o' sand. 
First thing I knew, old Jumbo was right there within 
twenty yards of me; and when he saw me, he rushed 
straight at me. 

" I had a 45-90 Winchester, and it was all right. 
Quick as I could, I sent in two shots, one in the centre 
of the breast, the other in the shoulder. My Ponto dog 
had jumped from the trail behind a cedar, and he was 
between me and the b'ar. My first two shots dropped 
old Jumbo, all right, but while I was throwin' in the 
third cartridge, he jumps up and starts for me again, 
full pelt. 

" I s'pose my dog thought the b'ar was gettin' too 



A RAINY DAY IN CAMP 209 

close to me. Anyway, he jumps from behind that cedar, 
plumb at the b'ar's throat, — just as I fired! I didn't 
see the dog till he filled the sight, just as I pulled the 
trigger; but when the gun cracked, I knew I'd killed 
him. The ball went clean through his shoulders, killin' 
him stone dead; but it also hit the b'ar in a front leg, 
and when he grabbed his leg between his teeth and bit 
it, it gave me a chance to put a ball into his neck, which 
finished him. 

" The death of my dog made me so mad and locoed 
I just emptied my Winchester into that b'ar, after he was 
down for keeps. I felt as I couldn't ever stop shootin' 
him. He was shore scorched by my last five shots. 

" That was the only b'ar that ever charged me. Al- 
though he had only just come out of his winter den, he 
was very fat. We got out of him over a hundred pounds 
of grease. He hadn't eaten anything since he holed up 
in the fall. His stomach was about the size of my two 
fists, and there was nothing in it but wrinkles. He was 
a dark silver-tip, and his hair was rather short and thin. 
We got only twelve-fifty out of him, bounty and hide. 
The bounty was $10. He was the biggest b'ar I ever 
saw. No, we didn't weigh him, nor measure him. We 
had no way to do either; but his dry hide was over ten 
feet long." 

THE BIG BEAR THAT GOT AWAY 

Some one said something about the difficulty of judg- 
ing distances in the mountains, particularly over snow; 
and that led to a remark from Mack Norboe 



aio CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

" Say, Mr. Phillips, how about Big Ben?" 

" It is always the biggest fish and the biggest bucks 
that get away," said Mr. Phillips, reflectively; and on 
being encouraged to " out with it " he outed with it, 
as follows: — 

" The bear that Mack refers to with that twinkle in 
his eye was, in one way, the most remarkable bear I ever 
saw on foot. We were hunting on the head of Wilson 
Creek, and it was the 12th of May. In many places the 
snow was deep on the mountains, but there were a few 
bare spots on the slides, where it had melted off. In 
those places, wild onions were springing up, and Mack 
and I started up a slide to look for a salad. But instead 
of finding small onions, we found big game. 

" Mack looked half a mile up a big slide, and said, 

" c Oh, my! what a big silver-tip! ' 

" It was a bear all right, and while he looked very 
dark, he seemed entirely too big for a black bear. When 
we looked at him with our glasses, however, we saw that 
although he was a black bear, he was a whaling big one. 
He was out on a snow-covered slide, walking slowly 
about among some low bushes, whose tops rose only a 
few inches above the snow. 

" As soon as we had taken a good look at him, we 
prepared for a run and a big fight. 

" ' He's a shore big 'un! ' said Mack." 

(At that point, Mack laughed.) 

" We kept in the edge of the green timber, and 
ploughed up through the snow at a great rate, shedding 
clothing at intervals all the way. In a very short time 



A RAINY DAY IN CAMP 211 

we got up nearly opposite the bear, but a little below 
him. The distance was only one hundred and seventy- 
five yards, and the bear looked as big as ever. Without 
losing a minute I stepped out, knelt down, and just as 
the bear looked at me, fired at the centre of him. My 
bullet flew a foot too high, and the bear started to run. 
I opened up and fired four more shots at him, and every 
shot went high, just like so many steps in a ladder. 

" The bear plunged into the green timber on the 
opposite side of the slide, and disappeared. I looked at 
Mack, and said, ( I missed him ! ' 

" ' Ye shore-ly did! ' said Mack. 

" We went out upon the slide, and looked at the 
bear's tracks. Then we both burst out laughing. 

" That bear was nothing but a measly little cub, fif- 
teen months old! He was only two sizes bigger than 
a full-grown woodchuck, and his tracks were simply 
ridiculous, they were so small. . . . You see, the little 
brute was out there on the snow, and there was abso- 
lutely nothing to indicate its size. Instead of being one 
hundred and seventy-five yards away it was only seventy- 
five, and each time I fired at the bear I shot clean over 
it. I never touched a hair of it." 

" That was the only bear that ever got away from 
Mr. Phillips!" said Mack. 

" Yes," said Charlie Smith, " and to cap the climax 
of that great big bear-fight, I heard the firing, and 
rushed up from camp with knives and whetstones and 
things, to help skin a big bear. But it just shows ye how 
sometimes the mountains fool a man com-pletely ! " 



CHAPTER XV 

CAMP-FIRE TALES 

Charlie Smith's Story— An Outlaw in Camp— A Silent Death Sentence 
—The Pursuers of Tom Savage Find Him— His Fate— John 
Norboe Introduces Old John Campbell— Trying to be Chased by 
a Grizzly— The Bear that Fell into the Fire. 

WHO is there who does not love a good story, told 
to eager and sympathetic listeners beside a generous 
camp-fire! Show me a man who does not, and I will 
show you a man whose heart is not right, whose red 
corpuscles are green, and whose milk of human-kindness 
has turned to whey. 

There are chums and chums ; and guides and guides. 
I have camped with several kinds of men, — white, red, 
yellow, brown and black. In the lot there have been 
some of the best of men, and some bad ones. One was 
a murderer, out of a job ; and another was a donkey with 
a human head, freshly retired from a great army for 
being a fool. 

I have already insinuated, however, that the compo- 
sition of our party of seven, — counting Kaiser, — left me 
absolutely nothing to desire. And it was in our ideal 
camp, in the head of Avalanche Valley, that the spirit 
moved most upon the company, and the best stories were 
told. The surroundings were so satisfactory that as we 



CAMP-FIRE TALES 213 

sat by the blazing logs and loafed away the hours of 
storm and ante-bedtime, each camper brought forth his 
share of story contributions, and told them in his best 
style. The good stories told around that camp-fire would 
easily fill a volume; and I would be more than human 
if I could refrain from reporting here a few of them, as 
samples of the whole. One of the best was told by 
Charlie Smith, precisely as follows, concerning 

AN OUTLAW IN CAMP 

" I spent the winter of 1878 at Fort Klamath, in 
southern Oregon, and in January I had some business 
at the government land-office, which then was at Lake 
View, ninety miles away. The trip had to be made by 
team, so early one morning I left Fort Klamath with a 
span of good horses and a light wagon. The ground 
was covered with snow, and as the country was sparsely 
settled it was necessary to haul supplies for myself and 
my horses, and camp on the trail. 

" Late in the afternoon of the second day, I reached 
the lower end of Drew's valley, and camped for the 
night. After unhitching my horses and feeding them, I 
rolled three pitch-pine logs together, and soon had a 
roaring fire going, over which I boiled a pot of coffee. 
After supper I spread some hay on the snow, and made 
my bed for the night. 

" When it became dark, I laid down on my blankets, 
to enjoy a real old camp-out smoke, and watch the flicker 
of my camp-fire on the pine boughs overhead. 

" I had lain there for some time, and was beginning 



214 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

to feel sleepy, when I heard horses coming down the 
mountain from the west, their hoofs beating a regular 
tattoo on the frozen road. A few moments later, an Ind- 
ian rode up to my fire. That didn't surprise me much, 
for in those days, one was liable to meet an Indian at 
any turn in the road. 

" He reined in his horse, and sprang to the ground, 
giving a grunt by way of salutation. He had two horses, 
and had been riding one and leading the other. They 
were both dripping with perspiration, and seemed just 
ready to fall in their tracks. After giving me and my 
outfit a sharp look, he led his ponies to one side, and 
tied them to a small tree. Then he came and stood by 
my fire, and asked me for some grass for his horses. I 
told him I didn't have any grass to spare. It wouldn't 
have done them any good, even if I had had a ton to 
give them, for they were just completely run to death. 
They stood up only a few minutes, and before daylight 
one of them was dead. 

" The Indian was dressed in a buckskin shirt and 
leggings, and a heavy red blanket was belted around his 
waist. I was sitting on my blanket, and my rifle, which 
I always kept near me, was tucked under the edge of my 
bed, by my side. A cold, raw wind was blowing, and 
as the Indian turned about to warm himself before the 
fire, the wind caught the corner of his red blanket and 
blew it up to one side. To my perfect horror, I saw a 
woman's scalp hanging from his inside belt, a white 
woman's scalp, with light-colored hair over a foot 
long! 



CAMP-FIRE TALES 215 

" I can't begin to tell you what a feeling that sight 
sent through me. It was like a current of electricity; 
and I felt it clean down to the ends of my toes. Like a 
flash, I knew that that Indian was a murderer, that he 
had killed some settler's wife, — and probably the whole 
family, — stolen their horses, and was being followed by 
somebody. Even an Indian won't run a good pair of 
horses to death for just nothing. 

" Without stopping for an instant to think what I 
was doing, I grabbed my rifle, cocked it, and brought it 
to bear on that Indian. 

" l Lay down, or I'll shoot you ! ' I fairly yelled 
at him. 

" I'll never forget the look he gave me, it was such 
a horrible mixture of ferocity and fear. He didn't obey 
the order at once, but glancing over his shoulder he said, 
* You know me? ' 

" I said, c No I don't and I don't want to, either.' 

" ' Me Tom Savage.' 

" ' Well,' I said, ' I don't give a cuss how savage you 
are. If you don't do as I say, I'll fill your hide so full 
of holes it won't hold baled hay; and you'd better not 
argue the point.' 

" Seeing that I had my gun levelled square at his 
heart, he dropped to the ground. 

" c Now,' I said, ' turn your back to me, and if you 
attempt to get up, or turn over, or look at me to-night, 
I'll kill you right where you lay.' 

" After the first shock of my surprise and horror had 
worn off, I did some very hard thinking. I was reason- 



2i 6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

ably sure some one was after him, or he would not have 
run his horses to death. I reasoned that he knew his 
mounts were done for, and his object in stopping at my 
camp was to raise my hair, and with my comparatively 
fresh horses, hit the trail again. 

" I was in a mighty uncomfortable position. My bet- 
ter feelings naturally turned against the idea of shoot- 
ing him, but all the time I was fully resolved he should 
not escape me. The main cause of immediate uneasiness 
was that those pine logs might burn out before morning, 
and that darkness might force me to act. 

" And so I spent that long, bitter cold night, — one of 
the longest I ever spent. Once during the night the logs 
fell apart, and one of them came near rolling on the 
Indian. He turned over and made as if to spring to his 
feet. I yelled at him not to get up, but to kick the log 
back again; so he put his feet against it and shoved it 
back against the other. When the fire blazed up again 
I laid my gun down, and put my hands under the blan- 
kets, for the wind was sharp and my bed was too far 
from the fire for comfort outside of blankets. 

" As the night wore away, I began to grow nervous. 
My business was urgent, and I could not go on without 
doing something with that fellow. The more I thought 
over the matter, the more determined I was that he 
should not escape me. I thought of all sorts of things. 

" Along about five o'clock in the morning, as I sat 
there watching and thinking, I noticed the Indian give 
a slight start, and then appear to be intently listening. 
I, too, strained my ears for some sound, hoping against 



CAMP-FIRE TALES aiy 

hope that some settler would come along; for by that 
time I had resolved that if assistance did not come soon, 
I would put a ball through that murderer's head, affix 
my brand, and leave him in the road. 

" To my great relief I soon detected the sound of 
hoof-beats, coming at a sharp gallop down the hillside, 
from the west. As they came nearer and nearer, the 
Indian began to beg of me to let him go. It was the 
first time he had spoken to me after telling me his name 
in the evening; but I ordered him to lie still. In a few 
minutes a lieutenant and four soldiers of the regular 
army trotted up to my smouldering fire. 

" As the officer in command dismounted, his glance 
fixed upon the blanketed party in front of the fire, and 
he took in the whole situation. He went up and poked 
the Indian with his foot, and as the savage turned his 
head and looked at him, he said to me, very cheerfully, 
'Well, stranger, you've got our bird here! We've been 
wanting this fellow.' 

" ' Very likely, officer,' I said, ' and if you hadn't 
showed up for another hour, a hearse would have been 
of more use to him than handcuffs.' 

" * Would you have executed him? ' 

" ' He's got a white woman's scalp under his blanket, 
and I shorely would have branded him so well that he 
wouldn't have been taken for a maverick. But I'm 
mighty glad you've come, just the same; and now I re- 
lease all claims on him.' 

" They soon had the brute in irons, and I soon had 
a pot of coffee boiling. While we drank our coffee, we 



218 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

talked. The lieutenant told me that this Indian was a 
Bannock, who had been ranging about Stein's Mountain, 
and he was an outlaw. He had made a sneak on an iso- 
lated settler, and had murdered the whole family, — man, 
woman and child. 

" He hid in the locality for some time, but it soon 
got too warm for him, and he skipped out and went to 
the Klamath Reservation. There he hid himself among 
the numerous tribes living there, until one day while 
gambling with a Klamath Indian, he stabbed and killed 
him. This enraged the Indians on the Reservation, and 
they reported him to the agent, who sent a squad of 
troopers after him. In some way he got wind of it, and 
with two stolen ponies he undertook to get back to his 
old range again. 

" He was taken to Fort Klamath, tried for murder, 
and hanged." 

Charlie Smith is no braggart; and when he told of 
his deliberate resolve to execute Tom Savage for thej 
murder of a white woman, every one of his auditors felt 
sure that but for the arrival of the outlaw's pursuers, the 
grim death sentence that Charlie silently pronounced by 
the embers of his smouldering camp-fire would resolutely 
have been carried out. 

For about the forty-fifth time, the talk and story- 
telling turned once more to bears. One remark led to 
another until John Norboe said: 

" The funniest thing I ever heard of in bear-huntin' 
was about old Jack Campbell, and 



CAMP-FIRE TALES 1219 

, THE GRIZZLY THAT FELL INTO THE FIRE 

" Campbell was a bald-headed old fellow who lived 
a few miles above Meeker, Colorado. He was great on 
killin' grizzlies, and he killed so many of 'em that finally 
he wasn't ever afraid of one, nohow. One time a feller 
was drivin' along a trail, and he saw old Jack come a-run- 
nin' out of a thick patch o' young jack pines, with an axe 
in his hand, lookin' behind him. No, he didn't have no 
gun. Bimeby he stopped, went back into the jack pines, 
but soon come a-runnin' out again, just as before. Then 
he stopped, and blamed if he didn't do it all over again. 

" Then the feller on the trail got off his wagon, 
hitched his horses, and went up to see what it all meant. 
And what d'ye s'pose that old cuss was up to? " 

Everybody gave it up. 

" Well, sir, there was a grizzly bear in the middle 
of them jack pines, eatin' on a dead horse; and blamed 
if old Jack wasn't a-tryin' to tease that bear into chasin' 
him out into the open, where he could swing his axe, so 
that he could kill him, — with his axe! The bear would 
chase him part way out, then go back to the horse." 

" Well, did he get him? " 

" No. About the third trip the bear got scared, and 
ran off the other way. But that wasn't what I started 
in to tell ye. One time old man Campbell and another 
feller was out in the mountains huntin'; and one night 
they camped right at the foot of a rock cliff about, — 
well, I don't know just how high it was. In the morn- 
ing old Jack got up first, built up a big log fire, and put 



220 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

on the coffee-pot. He had just begun to cook breakfast, 
when a little bit of rock fell down, and made him look 
up. Blamed if there wasn't a good big grizzly standin' 
on the top of the rock wall, lookin' down over the edge, 
at old John cookin' his breakfast. 

" Quick as lightnin' the old man grabs his gun, and 
sends a ball into the bear; and blamed if the bear didn't 
come tumblin' down, and fall plumb into the camp-fire. 
The coffee, an' ashes, an' fire jest flew] and the grizzly 
jest raised Cain. All that old man Campbell thought 
about was that good bear-skin, — on the bear, — about to 
get burnt up! He dropped his gun, rushed up, and 
begun a-grabbin' at the bear, to drag him out of the fire ! 
The bear was only half dead, and he grabbed, and clawed, 
and bit at the old man, all the time the old man was grab- 
bin' at him, and fightin' with him to get him drug outen 
the fire before his pelt got burnt. The old man never 
stopped to think that without his gun in his hands the 
bear might up and maul him. He thought he must get 
the bear out first, and then finish a-killin' him afterward." 

As John reached the point of his story, all uncon- 
sciously he acted out, in thrilling style, the frantic man- 
ner in which old John Campbell grabbed at a live 
grizzly, to pluck him as a brand from the burning, and 
save his vested rights in a twenty-dollar hide. It sent the 
audience off into roars, the meaning of which John mis- 
took, for he hastened to add, 

" Oh, that happened, all right! Mack and me saw 
that bear's hide, with a burnt patch on the back, didn't 
we, Mack!" 



CHAPTER XVI 

MORE CAMP-FIRE YARNS 

The Charge of the Duchess — The Death of the Duke of Wellington — 
The Horror of the Rocks — The Sheep that Couldn't be Caught — 
The Matches that Wouldn't Light. 

On several occasions I had heard mention of a nar- 
row escape that Mr. Phillips enjoyed from the claws of 
a wounded grizzly bear; and in the leisure hours of that 
rainy day in camp, it occurred to me to draw out all the 
facts regarding the affair. So I said: 

"John, it seems to me that in spite of all the bear- 
killing that has been done in these mountains, there have 
been no real bear scrapes, such as some men are always 
stirring up." 

" He has always shot so well there hain't been any 
room for argument," said Mack, with emphasis, " at 
least not more than that one time with the Duchess." 

" Did the Duchess charge, regularly? " 

" She surely did," said Mr. Phillips, quietly, " and I 
was properly scared, too." 

" How did it happen that she got a chance at you? " 

" It was all on account of Charlie's dog, the great 
and only Kaiser." 

" Aw, shucks] " broke in Charlie, warmly. " It was 



222 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

all on account o' yer bloomin' old camera, that you made 
me go after! " 

" Well, I know the picture-machine did enter in, in 
a way, even though it wasn't there at the finish. It was 
like this: 

THE CHARGE OF THE DUCHESS 

" In the last week of May, last year, we were hunt- 
ing bear on the head of Wilson Creek, some miles 
below here. We located a grizzly that we named the 
Duke of Wellington ; and being unable to get up to him, 
in the regular way, Charlie was commissioned to go out 
to the nearest settlement, buy an old horse, bring him 
in, and kill him for bait. I started out to go part way 
with Charlie, and hunt back alone. 

" About the middle of the afternoon we saw a silver- 
tip, across Wilson Creek up on a snowslide, about four 
hundred yards away. The whole mountain-side was cov- 
ered with snow, and it was easy to make a silent stalk, 
provided the ascent was not too steep. Under cover of 
some green timber I crawled to within three hundred 
yards of the bear, and let go a shot. It went too low; 
but with a quick second shot I rolled her over, and she 
came down the slide tumbling over and over, snow and 
bear-paws fairly flying through the air, for about fifty 
yards. There she stopped, and scrambled to her feet, 
but seemed unable to go farther on foot. 

" ' Now,' thought I, ' here is a chance to get pictures 
of a wounded grizzly.' So I yelled to Charlie to bring 
up my camera, and started to climb up close to the bear. 



MORE CAMP-FIRE YARNS 223 

Half-way up, Kaiser, sent on by Charlie, passed me and 
rushed for the bear. Charlie yelled to me, ' Shoot! 
Shoot, or she will get away! ' 

" When the row began, Charlie was three hundred 
yards below me, and lost time in getting the camera, 
but as soon as he secured it, he started up as fast as the 
snow would let him come. 

" Up to that time the bear had not seen us, and seem- 
ingly paid no special attention to the sound of the gun. 
She was shot too low, — through the brisket and fleshy 
part of the forelegs, — and while the shock had knocked 
her down, the only special result was to throw off her 
safety clutch, and start her machinery working. She 
evidently thought a big bug had bitten her; and with 
her head turned under her breast she was looking for it. 

" Kaiser boldly went right up to her, and when he 
came within ten feet she saw him, accepted him as the 
author of her trouble, and went for him like a runaway 
car on an incline of forty-five. The dog immediately 
lost all interest in having his picture taken with the dead 
game, turned tail, and fled down the slide. He came 
straight for me, possibly assuming that I ought to pro- 
tect him; and the bear came plunging after him. She 
plunged and slid on the snow so far that with every jump 
she covered about twelve feet, and threw up snow like a 
snow-plough. 

" All this time, the dog ran straight toward me, and 
I couldn't fire at the bear for fear of killing the dog. 
It's against the rules to kill Kaiser, ain't it, Charlie! 
There wasn't the slightest chance for me to fire, and 



224 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

here came the dog, leading that wounded bear right 
down upon me, as fast as they could plunge. For a time 
I was scared stiff, with nothing in the world to do but 
stand and wait for a chance to shoot. I remember think- 
ing that ' no matter how it turns out, it's great to see that 
bear come tearing down that snow-slide ! ' 

" Kaiser ran for his life, looking back once in a while, 
and by her sliding as she did, the grizzly gained upon 
him. Finally, when within twenty-five yards of me, 
Kaiser saw that in one more jump the bear would grab 
him; so he dove off to one side, head first, into a clump 
of bushes, and cleared the track. Then the grizzly saw 
me, and came on at me, straight as a bullet. As quick as I 
could I aimed just below her left eye and let go. It was 
my one chance, and I knew that if I missed there would 
be a bad mix-up. 

" My trap-shooting practice stood me in good stead, 
for that bear's head certainly was a flying target. But 
the ball struck her right, exploded in her head, and she 
pitched forward almost upon me, so dead she scarcely 
kicked. 

" Charlie was still far below, making frantic efforts 
to get up and into the scrape with his new six-shooter. 
He ran like a fairy across a cracked snow-bridge over 
the creek, and it made me laugh to see the holes he 
punched in the snow as he came up the slide. He 
arrived with a face like an angry father. First he lect- 
ured me, severely; then he laughed; then he thanked 
me formally and politely, for not shooting the bear 
through Kaiser! The grizzly was a female, and we 



MORE CAMP-FIRE YARNS 225 

named her the Duchess. She was not as big as the 
Duke of Wellington." 

" Now, Mack," said Charlie Smith, as Mr. Phillips 
finished his narrative, " tell 'em about the Duke o' Well- 
ington and old Blucher." 

DEATH OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON 

" Well," said Mack, slowly and bashfully, " we shore 
hunted that old Duke for a long time, and we didn't get 
him at all as we expected. As Mr. Phillips said, we 
were powerful anxious to bust old Duke, for he was the 
biggest b'ar we ever got track of up here." 

" Did you bait him with an old horse, as first 
planned?" 

" Yes ; and it never took a trick. The b'ars never 
went nigh it. Could they smell it? Well, I should say 
they could. We could smell it a mile; and finally we 
had to move camp on account of it. Somehow a b'ar 
never means to do what you want him to do." 

A long pause. 

" And how did you finally outwit the Duke? " 

" Oh, just by huntin' for him, — climbin' and huntin', 
early and late. Late one afternoon Mr. Phillips and 
myself happened to spy a couple of old-timers up on a 
mountain-side, eatin' their supper of roots, in a small, 
grassy spot in a bushy slide. They were across Wilson 
Creek from us, and half a mile up a steep mountain. I 
told John we'd shore have to pull our freight quick to 
get them b'ars before dark, and we went right at it." 



226 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

" The first trouble was in gettin' across the creek, 
where we got badly mixed up in a willow muskeg, and 
nearly bogged down. After fightin' the brush and mud 
for an awful long time, and gettin' mighty hot about it, 
we finally got over, and started for the slide. When we 
reached an opening we looked up, but the b'ars were 
gone. 

" After considerable loud talk, and plenty o' plannin', 
we started on up. We hadn't gone far when we found 
from the noise that the old gents had winded us, and 
rolled their tails off into the brush at one side of the slide. 
But they had stopped, and although we could hear 'em 
snortin' and snappin' their teeth, we just couldn't see hide 
nor hair of 'em, and couldn't get any sort of a shot. At 
last I did manage to glimpse 'em two or three times, but 
soon after that they hauled off into heavy timber. 

" The b'ars started climbin' up, and having nothing 
else to do, we climbed after them. Finally we all got 
plumb tired, and concluded it would pay just as well to 
sit down easy like, and watch. Unfortunately, darkness 
was almost onto us. It wasn't long before old Blucher 
poked his head outen the edge of the timber, where I 
could see him. I says to Mr. Phillips, ' Don't you see 
him? ' He says, ' No, I can't. It's too dark.' I was 
plumb anxious for the ball to open, so I says, ' John, may 
I shoot? ' ' Yes! Bust him! ' says John. Bang! 

" Down went old man Blucher, hollerin' and bawlin', 
1 I'm shot! ' And then Mr. Phillips caught sight of the 
Duke, and passed him one. He hollered, ' So am II ' and 
away the two of 'em went, rollin' and tearin' down the 



MORE CAMP-FIRE YARNS 227 

mountain, bawlin' and bellerin' like two mad bulls. Did 
you ever shoot a b'ar and have it roll down a hill, and 
holler? Yes? Well we started down after 'em. I re- 
marked to Mr. Phillips that they were very tuneful gents, 
thinking probably he hadn't noticed it; but he was al- 
ready laughin' fit to kill, and came near rolling down on 
the Duke. 

" Finally John M. handed the Duke two more .405 
soft-nosed pills, and that settled him. Then we started 
in to look for Blucher, — and a very dangerous thing to 
do ; for by that time it was getting dark, and even in day- 
light, tracking up a wounded grizzly ain't none too safe. 
But we couldn't do any good at it, so we lit out for camp 
and got in about ten o'clock." 

" Did you get Blucher the next day? " 

" No, we never did get him. It rained all that night, 
and about daylight a big snow-storm came on, and we 
couldn't track Blucher, nor flush him a little bit." 

THE HORROR OF THE ROCKS 

" I think," said I, once when there was a silence that 
needed breaking, " I'll tell you a joke on Charlie." 

Charlie Smith looked at me quick and hard, quite 
mystified. 

" Just before we left Goat Pass, Charlie and I once 
stopped to rest on the steep side of Bird Mountain, about 
half-way up. It was really very steep, and if a tenderfoot 
had once got well started to rolling, he would have 
bowled down about a quarter of a mile without stopping. 



228 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

We dug our heels into the ground, leaned back against 
the mountain, and I led Charlie into telling stories. I 
got him to tell me about the most scary things that ever 
happened to him on the rocks, — how the recoil of his 
gun, in shooting at a mountain sheep, nearly knocked him 
off a ledge to his death; how he and Mack caught that 
first mountain goat kid, and other adventures. 

" Well, by the time we were due to go on, Charlie's 
stories had scared me until I was stiff with fright, and he 
came very near having to carry me to camp." 

" Humph ! Well ! " said Charlie, very energetically, 
" I'll know enough next time not to tell yarns to anybody 
while I'm on a mountain." 

What I told the boys was more than half true. 
I was nerve-weary that day, and ankle-sore; and the 
stories that I drew out of my companion scared me 
quite as ghost-stories used to wreck my courage when I 
was a small boy. 

The horror of the rocks has shaken the nerves of 
many a stout-hearted mountaineer, long after the event. 

Once Charlie Smith and his former partner, dare- 
devil Jack Lewis, had a narrow escape from a tragedy on 
the crags of Sheep Mountain. Charlie almost slid over 
the edge of a precipice, with Jack close by, and both were 
as badly scared as these bold men of the mountains ever 
can be. That night, when they reached their cabin, and 
went to bed in their double bunk, to sleep the sleep of the 
exhausted, Charlie was suddenly awakened by Jack, who 
with both hands seized him by his beard and hair, and 
pulled at him desperately. 



MORE CAMP-FIRE YARNS 229 

" I surely thought," said Charlie, " that Jack would 
tear the very face off of me, he was that wild. He yelled, 
' Charlie! Charlie!' and we rolled and tumbled around 
in that bunk until I thought he never would come to his 
senses. Finally I yelled at him so loud that he woke 
up, panting like a man who has been running. When 
I spoke to him, and asked him what he was dreaming 
about he said, 'My God, Charlie! I thought you were 
sliding off them rocks again, and I was tryin' to pull 
you back.' " 

" Say, Charlie," said Mack, " what's the matter with 
tellin' how you-all came to scare Jack Lewis that way? " 

" Oh, I've told that before, nearly a dozen times," 
said Smith, with an air of strong disapproval. 

" Never mind, Charlie," said Mr. Phillips, " the Di- 
rector has never heard it, and I'd like to hear it again 
myself." 

" Go on, Charlie; go on." 

THE SHEEP THAT COULDN'T BE CAUGHT 

" Well," said Charlie, more cheerfully, " about five 
years ago an eastern Sportsmen's Association offered five 
hundred dollars for a live, full-grown mountain sheep 
ram; so Jack Lewis and I secured a permit from the gov- 
ernment and started out to land that five hundred. It was 
in January. The thermometer was away below zero, and 
the mountains were covered with snow and ice. We dis- 
covered a band of sheep high up on a wind-swept ridge 
of Sheep Mountain, and tried to drive them down into 



2 3 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

the deep snow, where we could rope them ; but the sheep 
were contrary, and took to the crest; and of course Jack 
and I followed them. 

" We had just reached the very top of the mountain 
when I slipped and fell, and started to slide down, with 
the Elk River Valley as my nearest stopping-place." 

" What did you think, Charlie, as you were going 
down?" 

" Oh, nothing much," he replied. " When I slipped 
and fell, I knew it was all over with me if I started to roll, 
or failed to stop myself in the first few feet of my slide. 
All I could remember in the shape of a prayer was ' Now 
I lay me down to sleep,' a little rhyme my mother taught 
me when I was a kid. Just as I was sliding over the edge 
of the cliff, in a sitting position with my heels digging 
hard into the snow, I uncovered a trailing-juniper bush, 
which sprang up between my legs. Well, sir, when that 
bush sprang up, I embraced it like a long-lost brother. 
It stopped me all right, but all I could do was to just sit 
there, with my legs hanging over Kingdom Come. As 
quick as he could, old Jack threw down to me the end of 
one of the ropes we had brought along to rope the sheep 
with, and he snaked me back to the top. I tell you I was 
mighty glad to shake hands with him! His face was as 
white as a sheet! 

" Finally, we corralled the sheep on that peak just 
above Pass Creek. The top of the peak is hollow, and 
from the valley it looks like an arm chair with the north 
side cut off almost square, and pitching straight down 
five hundred feet or more toward Pass Creek. We made 



MORE CAMP-FIRE YARNS 231 

the climb from below, Jack, who is perhaps the best 
mountaineer in British Columbia leading the way. As 
soon as he got his head and shoulders above the seat of 
the chair he saw a big ram close by, and prepared to 
rope him. As I was hanging onto the icy rocks at one side, 
I happened to cast my eyes over the precipice, plumb 
down into Pass Creek. The sight of it fairly chilled 
the marrow in my bones, and brought me to my senses. 
I yelled out to Jack, ' For God's sake, Jack, don't rope 
that sheep, or he'll pull us both off the mountain! ' At 
that, Jack pulled up short, and as we clung to the rocks, 
the sheep stampeded. But the sheep couldn't get up the 
back or over the arms of the chair, so they came out al- 
most over the top of Jack, one large ewe making a pass 
at him with her horns as she went by. After getting 
away, all the sheep ran south along the mountain, with 
the exception of the old ram, who circled below them to 
the north, and headed for Hornaday Mountain. He 
went down that awful mountain-side just a-tearin'. As 
we watched, we saw him plunge into a patch of deep 
snow in Pass Creek and go plumb out of sightl Then 
we thought we had him. 

" We scrambled down from the crags, and as soon as 
it was safe we put on our snow shoes, which we had been 
carrying on our backs for just such an emergency. As 
we ran down to the creek, with Jack Lewis leading, one 
of his shoes came off and he turned a complete somer- 
set, breaking through the crust and disappearing in the 
deep snow. I was so close after him that before I could 
stop or swerve to one side, I piled in on top of him. When 



23 2 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

we finally succeeded in getting out, the old ram had 
broken his way to a safe footing on the cliffs of the oppo- 
site side of the creek, where he stopped and looked back 
at us. 

" But it was something awful the way that sheep 
worked to get through that snow. It was six or eight 
feet deep, and had a slight crust on top. He would leap 
clear to the top of it, strike the crust with his breast and 
send the pieces flying, forge forward a few feet, then sink 
again out of sight only to bob up once more and try it 
again." 

" So you lost him? " 

" Sure. But we caught an old nanny goat that was 
sheltering in a cave, and hog-tied her without hurting 
her. We were too exhausted to take her down that day, 
so after spending the night very miserably by a little fire 
under the cliff-wall near the mouth of the creek, we 
climbed up the next morning only to find her dead. We 
thought she died of old age, she was so very old and thin, 
and almost toothless." 

Naturally, one tale of hardship brought forth another. 
The mountains were full of them. The very creek upon 
which we were camped had been the scene of a tragedy 
in the early days. Seven white prospectors had gone in 
somewhere very near to where we then were, camped, 
and never were heard of more. Some think they were 
killed by Indians; but they may all have been buried 
under a great snow-slide. 

Some one told us of this lonesome tragedy: 



MORE CAMP-FIRE YARNS 233 

THE MATCHES THAT WOULDN'T LIGHT 

Up in the edge of the mountains, twenty miles or 
so above the Sulphur Spring, there lived alone, in 
a lonesome little cabin, a trapper who was an old 
man. He was too old to live there alone, but the love 
of the life was strong within him, and he was quite 
content. 

One bitter cold day in midwinter, when the snow lay 
a foot deep on the trail, he shouldered his pack of flour 
and coffee, and set out from the cabin of Wild-Cat 
Charlie to go to his own. 

The labor of the journey at last proved too great for 
him. As his weary steps dragged more and more slowly 
through the snow, the cold assailed him at all points. 
Two miles from the shelter of his cabin, he threw down 
his pack. A mile farther on, he leaned his rifle against 
a tree and left it. Two hundred yards from his cabin he 
fell, but bravely crawled the remaining distance on his 
hands and knees. 

He reached his cabin, entered, closed the door, and 
whittled some shavings with which to kindle his fire. 
The kindlings and the dry wood all were there. At last 
everything was ready for the match, and he essayed to 
strike it. 

His fingers were so benumbed by minus forty degrees 
of cold that they were like sticks of wood. The first 
match broke short off, unlighted. So did the next, and 
the next, and the next. 

It was beyond his power to strike the match that 



234 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

would have started the fire that would have saved his 
life. Days after, he was found lying upon the floor, on 
the remains of the matches that would not strike, frozen 
as hard as the rocks of the cruel mountains around his 
lonely cabin. 



CHAPTER XVII 

A GREAT MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNT 

Variations in Sheep Hunting — Artistic Value of Scenery in Hunting — 
John Norboe's Peril — Camp Necessity — Remarkable Goat Licks — 
Sheep Signs — A Very Long Stalk — Attack in a Wind Storm — 
Misses and Hits — Mack Norboe's "Bungers" — Three Dead Rams 
— A Night of Terror. 

"Though far be the glacier-filled fountain, 
The foot of the hunter is free. 
Though high be the ram on the mountain, 
The hunter climbs higher than he." 

In the hunting of mountain sheep in British Colum- 
bia, there are many variations. In the south, among the 
house-roof mountains, it is possible that you may be re- 
quired to climb very high, amid real perils on the cliffs. 
You may make tremendously long and steep climbs with- 
out perils, or the sheep may run into your arms at an 
elevation of eight thousand feet, as did the pair which 
Mr. Phillips photographed. In northern British Colum- 
bia and Yukon Territory, you can find sheep on low, hill- 
like mountains in high country; or you may, like Charles 
Sheldon, find them on slide-rock so fearfully steep that 
you cannot measure a sheep, even after you have killed it. 

It is not all of hunting to kill game. The surround- 
ings, and how you used them to outwit your keen-eyed 

*35 



i 3 6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

quarry, sometimes are fully as interesting as the game 
itself. It is far from ideal hunting to tramp hour after 
hour through a monotonous, brush-filled forest, " head " 
the soggy-banked ponds and flounder through bogs for a 
final shot at a moose in a tangle of undert ush so thick 
you can see through it only a few yards. It takes a 
mighty fine animal to compensate one for mean hunting- 
grounds. 

But take mountains like ours, where at every mile 
there rises around you a new cyclorama of crag and peak, 
ridge and valley, timber, slide and glacier, and it takes 
a fine animal to draw your gaze from the pictures! To 
kill, in such a setting, a mountain ram, a goat or a grizzly 
bear is Hunting, indeed. With all her bison and tigers, 
buffalo and bear, India has nothing like it south of the 
Himalayas, not even in the Nilgiris. Judging by a thou- 
sand photographs, I should say that with all her multi- 
tudes of big game, Africa has nothing like it, anywhere. 
South America has her Andes, but alas ! they are deplor- 
ably barren of animal life. 

To one who has seen the cyclorama, and the dead 
game lying on the mountain — as I did, — Mr. Phillips's 
hunt for mountain sheep in the Big Bend of Avalanche 
Creek was a fine performance, and it is a pleasure to help 
the Reader to see it as it was. It fairly illustrates one 
phase, and a difficult one, of mountain sheep hunting in 
those precipitous mountains. 

It was undertaken for the special purpose of procur- 
ing one or two exlta-fine rams, for a laudable purpose, 
and it was the appearance of the twelve rams on the sum- 



A GREAT MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNT 237 

mit sky-line on the evening of September 15th which led 
the hunters into that particular territory. 

John Norboe returned from a look into that region 
on the very night the sheep were seen, and in terse but 
picturesque language he impressed his hearers with the 
idea that it was a bad country in which to hunt. Mack 
then remarked, with emphasis, 

" Well, if he says it's bad country, you kin shore set 
it down that it's a terror! " 

Said John, " Director, I was in a place this afternoon 
that I don't believe you would be willing to get into for 
a million dollars. In fact, money couldn't hire me to try 
it again myself. I started to climb up a bad place, and 
when I got away up, I couldn't go on, and I couldn't get 
downl For a while I just hung on, and wondered how 
many days it would take the boys to find my body." 

" And how did you get out of it? " 

" Well, at last I managed to take my shoes off, and 
hang 'em round my neck. Then I hung on till I got my 
nerve back, and finally I managed to climb on up. I 
haven't been so skeered in years. It's lucky I didn't have 
my gun with me. I'd shore a-dropped it! " 

This was the country south-east of Phillips Peak. 

On the morning of the 16th, Mr. Phillips and the two 
Norboes took the four-by-seven silk tent, a scanty supply 
of blankets and three days' rations, and marched off down 
Avalanche Creek. They planned to strike the sheep 
country from the south, and the idea was right. They 
tramped down Avalanche Creek to where it strikes Roth 
Mountain, beyond which it was unexplored. At that 



2 3 8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

point it turns to the east, in a right angle, and in the bend 
of this elbow rise the Phillips Mountains. From that 
point they followed the stream eastward, crossed some 
immense rock slides, and finally entered a tract of 
heavy, moist and mossy green timber, two miles long. In 
the centre of this ribbon of timber, they found the tepee- 
poles of what once had been a Stoney Indian camp ; and 
there they pitched their own tiny tent for two, and called 
the place " Camp Necessity." 

" There shore must be game about here," said John 
Norboe, as he kicked at a piece of mountain sheep skull. 
" Injuns hain't been campin' here for fun." 

After a hasty luncheon, Mr. Phillips and Mack Nor- 
boe set off up the northern mountains, climbing up the 
face of a lofty ridge that rose like a gigantic roof a mile 
and a half from base to summit, and two miles long. At 
its western end this ridge terminates against a towering 
peak, with perpendicular walls. The eastern end stops 
abruptly in mid-air, forming a commanding point. On 
the southern face were two or three outcroppings of rock 
wall, precisely like dormer windows. It was from the 
eastern point of this ridge that Charlie Smith and I saw 
a very spectacular bear-hunt a little later on, when I came 
to know all that ground very well. This ridge is de- 
scribed because it presently became a storm-centre of some 
magnitude. 

In climbing the ridge, the hunters steered well toward 
the west, in order to strike the cliffs that rose from that 
extremity. Half a mile up, they found the most exten- 
sive series of goat-licks that were seen on our whole trip. 



A GREAT MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNT 239 

They were situated in a scattered clump of stunted 
spruces, toward which well-worn goat-trails led from 
various directions. The earth was sufficiently impreg- 
nated with mineral salts that the goats — and sheep, also, 
beyond a doubt — were very fond of it. 

The animals had dug under the roots of ten or a dozen 
spruce trees until they were undermined by great cavities, 
and the large roots, exposed in mid-air, looked like the 
bodies of boa constrictors and pythons. The rough bark 
of the spur-roots was covered with fine, soft white hair 
which plainly told the species of earth-eater most in evi- 
dence. The goats had worked under the trees because 
the earth was more moist there, and their mining opera- 
tions were not disturbed by the sliding snow and rocks 
that annually assailed the unprotected surfaces of the 
mountain. The zeal and industry of the animals, and 
their strength also, was amazingly portrayed. They had 
dug out and thrown aside quantities of stones, which 
had rolled down the mountain side, and the whole place 
looked as disturbed and bare as if it had lately been 
worked over with mattock and rake.* 

Mr. Phillips's excellent photograph of one of the 
goat- workings under a spruce tree is shown herewith. 
These goat-licks are fairly common throughout the moun- 

* In 1902, Messrs. G. O. Shields and W. H. Wright found on the west 
fork of the north branch of the Athabasca River a goat-lick of still greater pro- 
portions than those described above. Trails lead to it from a radius of five 
miles. A cut bank fifteen feet high has been eaten away, until trees and large 
stones have been undermined and thrown down the mountain-side. A man 
can ride on horseback behind some of the roots now exposed. The earth is 
described as a light, chalky clay. 



2 4 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

tains of British Columbia. There is one within two miles 
of Charlie Smith's ranch on Elk River. 

On reaching the summit of the lofty ridge, the hunters 
found themselves at the foot of an unscalable wall be- 
tween two hundred and three hundred feet high, with a 
slide-rock basin beyond, another transverse ridge beyond 
that, and no sheep in sight. On the north side, their first 
ridge dropped away very steeply to a V-shaped valley 
and a creek. The great ridge that rose beyond that was 
even taller than that on which they stood; and creek 
and ridge swung around the eastern end of ridge No. i 
at very nearly a right angle, debouching into Avalanche 
Valley half a mile below the new camp. The summit 
of Ridge No. i reminded me so much of the business 
centre of a cyclorama that I named it that, and called 
its eastern terminus Cyclorama Point. 

Two other interesting incidents marked Mr. Phillips's 
first afternoon on Cyclorama Ridge. One was a goat per- 
formance, the other the discovery of good mountain sheep 
signs. The former is thus described in detail by Mr. 
Phillips : 

" On rounding a small cliff that broke out of the side 
of the mountain, we discovered about fifty yards away 
to our left, a nanny goat, a yearling billy and a kid. In 
Mack Norboe's mountain language he called them an 
old lady, a little billy and a goatee. As goats are always 
interesting to me, on account of their propensity for 
doing queer things, we sat down to watch them. 

" They had not seen us, and the old mother was busy 
licking the face of the cliff. Perhaps she was finding 



A GREAT MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNT 241 

something alkaline. The young billy was growing his 
first whiskers, and in a dignified manner he resented cer- 
tain playful advances on the part of the kid. 

"After we had watched them for some time, the 
mother-goat winded us, and after a mild stare in our 
direction, started up the apparently vertical cliff, the 
young billy following her. The kid, not knowing of our 
presence, and being deserted by its mother, immediately 
set out on its own account to climb up a perpendicular 
chimney in the wall. The crack was about four feet wide, 
and inasmuch as there were no footholds discernible from 
where we stood, we expected to witness the ultimate 
downfall of the kid. 

" The little fellow bounced nimbly from side to side, 
making jumps from two to three feet high. When about 
twenty-five feet up he made a spring across, struck on an 
apparently smooth wall, and seemed to lose his footing. 
The most surprising thing was that he shoved himself 
backward with his front feet, and alighted safely on the 
invisible foothold which he had left four feet below. He 
then bounced down from side to side, like a rubber ball, 
galloped like a hobby-horse under the base of the cliff, 
and scrambled up after his mother and older brother. 

" When we arose and walked to the goats' point of 
departure, they looked down upon us from the cliff, with 
the indifference of conscious security. We were no 
doubt the first human beings they had ever seen, and 
of course they regarded us with curiosity. Possibly 
they thought we were bears of a new species, walking 
upright." 



a 4 2 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Quite near to the haunt of the goats, the hunters dis- 
covered four or five wild-animal beds which Mack 
thought had been made by sheep. This belief was con- 
firmed by the finding of some sheep hair. From the 
character of the spot, and the absence of protecting cliffs, 
the sheep sign was supposed to represent a band of ewes, 
until presently the hunters found unmistakable evidence 
of the recent presence of a band of large rams, which 
evidently had lived for some weeks in that neighborhood. 
The contiguous ridges and slides were carefully exam- 
ined, but no sheep were seen that day, and at nightfall 
the hunters returned to the little pulpit-like spot in the 
green timber whereon John Norboe had with great pains 
made a camp close beside an old Indian trail. 

On the following morning the sheep-hunt opened 
early and with vigor. The three hunters packed their 
entire outfit upon their backs, and set out to make a hunt 
up the newly-found creek, — which later on for a good 
reason they elected to call Grizzly Creek, — and camp 
well northward of its valley. They started up that creek 
from its mouth, half a mile below their camp, but had not 
gone more than a mile through its tangle of down timber 
when they discovered their long-lost band of rams. They 
were on the western face of Cyclorama Ridge, under a 
point which sheltered them from the wind, and the wind 
was blowing half a gale from the hunters perilously near 
the sheep. 

The plan of the hunt was quickly formed. John Nor- 
boe was sent down to Avalanche Creek, with all the outfit. 
Mr. Phillips and Mack stripped for a strenuous effort, 



A GREAT MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNT 243 

and mapped out a long and severe detour to the east- 
ward, away from the sheep, and around them. The cir- 
cuit they actually made took them up to the top of the 
eastern mountain, northward under the shelter of its crest 
for two miles, then a long swing westward into the valley 
of Grizzly Creek. After that they climbed southward to 
the top of Cyclorama Ridge, and at last, after a four-mile 
struggle, stood above their quarry and dead to leeward of 
it. In looking over the summit, they were rejoiced to 
find that the sheep had not moved. 

Keeping well below the crest of the ridge, the hunters 
moved eastward until they reached their chosen line of 
approach, then began to work downward under cover 
of some stunted spruces and aspens. When they gained 
the high, dormer-window point under which the sheep 
had been seen, the gale was so strong that it was almost 
impossible to face it. It was laden with so much dust 
that had been swept off the rocks, that Mr. Phillips's 
eyes watered so copiously he could scarcely see. They 
could hear dead timber crashing down in Avalanche Val- 
ley, and the quaking-asps around them were whipped 
almost to the ground. 

Finally a fierce gust of wind bent down a clump of 
bushes in such a manner that a massive pair of ram's horns 
stood revealed to the anxious eyes of the searchers, and 
only seventy- five yards away! The next instant, the 
bushes sprang up again and masked the quarry. Then 
Mr. Phillips trained his rifle to bear on the spot desired, 
and waited for another gust. It came; the bushes 
gave way for an indistinct glimpse, and Mr. Phillips 



244 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

fired at the ram's shoulder. This is the hunter's own 
account of what followed : 

" At the roar of the gun, the sheep broke away in all 
directions. Three ran south-west, across the slide and up 
the next ridge. I thought that the leading ram was the 
one at which I had shot. As he ran, I fired three more 
shots at him; but the wind either swayed me or drifted 
my bullets, for they only threw up dust beside him. After 
missing three times, I realized that I must get him with 
the fourth and last shot, or not at all; so I quickly sat 
down, took a knee-rest, and held to the left. With that 
shot I hit him high up in the shoulders, striking the 
spinal column, and killing him instantly. Fortunately 
he rolled only once, and lodged against a stump. 

" While reloading my gun I sat watching the two 
three-year-old companions of my big ram, which were 
making frantic leaps up the ridge toward the high peak. 
Just as I finished loading, I heard Mack yelling in great 
excitement, fifty yards below me, 'Jack! Jack! Run 
here, quick. Two hungers! ' " 

Mack and Charlie always speak of rams with big 
horns as " hungers " — a very convenient term when breath 
is scarce, and rams are running. 

" Running at top speed down the point, I soon saw 
two large rams, two hundred yards away. They were 
running north, through a patch of burned timber, quak- 
ing-asp and willows, which made it very difficult to get 
any kind of a shot. The speed with which those rams 
bounded over the down timber and brush was really 
wonderful. They seemed scarcely to touch the ground, 




Mr. Phillips's Finest Mountain Sheep 

(" The Carnegie Ram.") 



A GREAT MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNT 245 

and their white rump-patches gave them the appear- 
ance of two large pieces of paper blown along by the 
wind. 

" The rearmost ram carried the larger horns, and at 
him I fired three shots, but without result. Again I sat 
down, and holding high above the white patch on the 
seat of his pants, fired again, just as he disappeared in a 
patch of green timber. 

" There were originally eight rams in that herd, and of 
these, Norboe had seen two run down toward the creek. 
Immediately following my first shots, the herd had di- 
vided into three groups, which fled in three directions. 
After the excitement was over, I proceeded to make ex- 
planations to Mack, to account for the firing of nine 
shots and a score of only one ram. The old fellow looked 
at me with a merry glint in his keen gray eyes, and handed 
me my hunting-shirt. 

" ( You and your big gun shorely had a full-grown 
time stampedin' them sheep, and shootin' off a whole lot 
o' timber.' 

" This observation was at the expense of my .405- 
calibre gun, Mack being an advocate of the .33 high- 
power gun. ' Them cannon guns,' he once said to me, 
* gives me the buck fever whenever I unlimbers 'em, 
thinkin' of the roar, and the kick that's comin'! When 
you shoots standin', they shoves you around like a monkey 
on a stick; and if you sets down and turns 'em loose, they 
move a feller along the ground so quick that it ain't 
pleasant. If you're lucky enough to hit your game, it 
tears his hide open; besides which, them big explosions 



246 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

blasts down the standin' scenery, and scares the rest of the 
game plumb outen the country.' 

" Presently John Norboe joined us, and together we 
climbed up the point to the body of the ram which I 
had killed. We photographed, measured, skinned and 
weighed him. His horns measured fifteen and one-half 
inches in basal circumference, and his weight on the 
director's scales was two hundred and eighty-five pounds. 
All this time the wind poured a strong blast along the 
side of the mountain. After we had finished our work, 
John Norboe took the skin, with the unskinned head 
attached, and a small quantity of meat, and started for 
camp, while Mack and I set out to investigate my bad 
shooting. 

" On visiting the spot whereon Ram No. i had stood 
when I fired at him, we were surprised to find blood. 
This we trailed up, around the rocky point from which 
I had fired, and soon found where the sheep had fallen 
and started to roll. We found him far down, lying dead 
within a hundred yards of the brook, where he had 
lodged against a stout young quaking-asp. He was the 
leader of the band, we thought, and the others which 
ran north had hesitated after he was stricken, thus giving 
me a chance to fire at them, also. 

" This sheep was a much larger ram than the first 
one. He was forty-one inches high at the shoulders, the 
way Mr. Hornaday measures animals, with the elbow 
pushed up, and he weighed three hundred and sixteen 
pounds. He was the largest ram I ever killed, or saw, 
although at that time he was not in fat condition. We 



A GREAT MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNT 247 

thought that had he lived he would have put on another 
thirty or forty pounds by the time severe winter weather 
set in. My bullet struck him just behind the shoulder, 
ranged back through his stomach, and passed out on the 
opposite side. 

" After that we climbed up to see what had become 
of my third ram, and were very much surprised at find- 
ing him lying dead! I had killed my legal limit of 
mountain sheep, which was one more than I had in- 
tended! This one was five years old, with horns already 
fifteen and one-half inches in circumference, and his gross 
weight was two hundred and eighty-seven pounds. 

" I felt very badly over this sheep, for I had intended 
to kill only two, one for the Carnegie Museum, and an- 
other for the director. But there was no time to spend 
on the mountain in regrets. Our long stalk, and the work 
afterward on the rams, had carried us well toward the 
close of the day. By that time the wind had abated, it 
was raining softly, and almost dark. Packing up all the 
meat we could carry, Mack and I laboriously worked 
our way down to Avalanche Creek, to the new camp 
which John had made. 

"That was a damp and gloomy spot; and we named 
it Camp Necessity. We were profoundly tired, and 
ravenously hungry — having had no mid-day bite ; but the 
delicious mutton chops which John Norboe had ready 
for us soon put us at peace with all the world. 

" But not for long; for that proved to be a fearful 
night. It rained all night, and nearly drowned us out; 
but that was not the worst of it. The wind increased in 



a 4 8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

violence, and came roaring down the narrow valley until 
the trees rocked under its force, and many tree-tops were 
snapped off and hurled to the ground. I could feel roots 
moving under our bed of boughs, like great snakes 
writhing, and was thoroughly afraid that a tree-top, 
or a tree, would be snapped off and sent crashing down 
upon us. 

" At last I got so nervous I could lie still no longer, 
and crawled out of the tiny tent, ostensibly to mend the 
fire. John Norboe occupied my canvas sleeping-bag, 
outside. 

" l Have you got a pipeful of tobacco, John? ' I asked, 
for the sole purpose of rousing him a bit. 

" ' No, I hain't,' said John, ' but I know what's the 
matter with you! ' 

" < Well, what? ' 

"'You're scared/' 

" l Well, so are you ! ' 

" * Say, Mr. Phillips, does this sleepin' bag o' yourn 
ever leak? ' 

"'No. Why?' 

" ' Becos it's full o' water that's run in at the top, and 
I've been a-hopin' it would run out below.' 

" But at last the long night wore away without 
accident." 

Two days later I assisted in working up those three 
fine specimens, especially in the work on the heads. In 
fact, I may say I was chief mourner; but it was a task 
of great interest, as will be noted elsewhere. 




The Brooklyn Ram, Thirty Minutes After Death 

(Slightly distended by gas.) 



A GREAT MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNT 249 

DIMENSIONS AND WEIGHT OF MOUNTAIN SHEEP RAMS 
SHOT BY JOHN M. PHILLIPS, SEPTEMBER 19, 1905 



No. 1, for 
Carnegie 
Museum. 



No. 2, for 
Brooklyn 
Museum. 



Age 

Height at shoulders 
Length of head and body 
Girth, behind foreleg . 

at middle of body 

at loins 

Circumference of fore leg, at elbow 
hind leg, at knee 
Distance from elbow to head of femur 
Circumference of neck, at throat 
Point of shoulder to rear of rump 
Weight by scales 




ioyrs. 
40 in. 
68* " 

52" 
60*" 

48" 
12 " 
21 " 

33" 

24" 

44" 

285 lbs. 



* This extra large measurement probably was due to gas. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

MOUNTAIN SHEEP NOTES 

The Culminating Point of a Species — Measurements of Record Heads 
— Range of the Big-Horn — The White Sheep — The Black Sheep — 
Fannin's Sheep — Fighting Noses of our Specimens — Reinforce- 
ment of the Neck — Captain Radcliffe's Opinion About Broken Tips 
— Measurements of our Sheep — Comparative Dimensions of Sheep, 
Goat and Mule Deer — Comparison of Sheep and Goat — Enemies 
of Mountain Sheep — Impending Extinction in British Columbia. 

Mr. Phillips's mountain sheep rams were to all of 
us specimens of great interest. All three were carefully 
measured and weighed, and the skins of all were saved 
entire, for mounting. The oldest and largest ram, and 
the five-year-old, were presented by Mr. Phillips to the 
Carnegie Museum at Pittsburg, and the second in size 
was given to me, for presentation to the Brooklyn Insti- 
tute Museum. 

American literature is not so much overburdened 
with information regarding the mountain sheep of North 
America that I need apologize for noting here a few of 
the most important facts regarding that group of animals. 
Be it known, therefore, that it is in the very locality in 
which we then found ourselves — southeastern British 
Columbia, — that the true Rocky Mountain Big-Horn, 
(now Ovis canadensis, but for eighty years called Ovts 

montana), reaches its maximum development. 

250 



MOUNTAIN SHEEP NOTES 251 

The culminating point of any important species, or 
the locality in which it grows largest and carries the 
largest horns, is a very interesting item of its life history. 
For the past five years, or thereabouts, we have known 
that throughout the wide range of the Big-Horn, — let us 
say from the Grand Canyon of the Colorado to the Liard 
River, a distance of two thousand miles, — the largest 
horns come from southeastern British Columbia and 
southwestern Alberta, within a radius of two hundred 
miles of Banff. I have had the pleasure of measuring, — 
in the severest manner possible in taking such dimen- 
sions, — several very fine heads owned by personal friends, 
to which I can add the splendid head procured for me 
in Banff by Mr. G. O. Shields. The circumference 
measurements of these specimens were taken in as perfect 
a plane as if each horn had been cut in two with a saw on 
the line of the tape ; and there is no better place in which 
to place them before the Reader than here. 

A " record head " of a big-game animal is one which 
by reason of its commanding proportions and superior 
qualities is entitled to a place in every printed list of heads 
or horns which undertakes to set forth the finest existing 
specimens of that species. A record head is not neces- 
sarily the largest head " on record." Usually, it is an 
impossibility to find " the finest head in the world " of 
any given species, because so many qualities enter in for 
judgment that it is almost impossible for any one speci- 
men to combine all of them. As a rule, the longest horns 
lack massiveness, and the thickest horns lack in length. 
Real grandeur is not often attainable by mere attenuation. 



252 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Massiveness, symmetry, texture and color are not to be 
ignored for the sole sake of inches on the tape. 

All the heads listed below are, in my judgment, 



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record heads, i. e., worthy of being recorded with the 
world's best heads of their respective species. To those 
who desire to make comparisons between heads of Big- 



MOUNTAIN SHEEP NOTES i 53 

Horn Sheep, here is a simple rule by which to reduce 
each pair of horns to exact terms : 

Add together (i) the basal circumference, (2) the 
circumference 18 inches from the base, (3) the circum- 
ference one inch from the tip, and (4) the length on the 
outer curve; and divide their sum by 4. 

It must be remembered that all sheep horns shrink 
in circumference with age. A large horn will in two 
years' drying shrink nearly or quite an inch in basal 
circumference; and there is no way to prevent it, in a 
mounted specimen. 

North America contains six species of mountain 
sheep, which form two fairly distinct branches of the 
genus Ovis. The Big-Horn (O. canadensis) forms the 
stem of the first, and from it branch off the Mexican 
Sheep (O. mexicanus), of northern Mexico, and Nel- 
son's Sheep (O. nelsoni), of southern California. 

The stem of the other branch is formed by the White 
Sheep (O. dalli), and its branches consist of Fannin's 
Sheep (O. fannini, if it survives) and the Black Sheep 
(O. stonei) . 

It is interesting to note how much more persistent 
in its desire to migrate is the mountain sheep (genus) 
than the mountain goat. Here in British Columbia 
we found them inhabiting the same mountains, and 
on September 11 we actually saw sheep and goats in 
the same moment. In its eastward range, the goat 
now stops at St. Mary's Lakes, on the eastern slope 
of the Rockies, in Northwestern Montana, but the 
mountain sheep goes four hundred and seventy miles 



254 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

farther, to the Little Missouri River, in western North 
Dakota. 

In going southward, the goat halted at the Teton 
Mountains, Wyoming; but the mountain sheep has gone 
on to the lakes of Santa Maria in Chihuahua, Mexico, 
and southwestward to the lower end of the Lower Cali- 
fornia Peninsula. 

As the Big-Horn goes northward, it is finally replaced 
in northern British Columbia by the Black Sheep (Ovis 
stonei), a species which as yet is but little known outside 
the basin of the Stickine River, and the mountains which 
surround it. It is now certain, however, thanks to the 
explorations of Mr. Charles Sheldon, that the range of 
the latter species extends northward from the Stickine 
River to the Macmillan River, in latitude 63 °. Just 
where the Black Sheep and Big-Horn come together, no 
one is as yet able to say; but it is very probable that the 
extreme northern and western boundaries of the latter 
species will shortly be determined. 

The White Sheep (Ovis dall'i), has been observed as 
far south as the Schesley Mountains, the first range north 
of the Stickine River. This means that in the south- 
eastern portion of its range, the White Sheep is found in 
the territory of the Black Sheep. It is impossible to pur- 
sue this point any farther without forestalling the publi- 
cation of the results of Mr. Charles Sheldon's very valu- 
able scientific explorations, and studies of mountain sheep 
in some hitherto unknown portions of the great Yukon 
Territory. If Ovis fannini is eventually abandoned, as a 
distinct form, the author will be consoled by the knowl- 




A Prize Big-Horn Head 

Taken near Banff, Alberta, in 1903. No. 5 in list on page 252. 




Head ot a Black Mountain Sheep, (Ovis stonei). 

Killed near the Stickine River, northern British Columbia, September, 
1904, by J. R. Bradley. 



MOUNTAIN SHEEP NOTES 255 

edge that his description of that form is accredited by 
Mr. Sheldon as the original cause of his extensive explora- 
tions for sheep in the wild Northwest. 

The Black Mountain Sheep is the darkest in color, 
or one may say the most nearly black, of all American 
wild sheep. North of the Stickine River it is not so black 
as it is farther south, where the blackness of its head, 
neck and body is very pronounced. In the majority of 
cases, its horns are so characteristic that any studious per- 
son should be able to recognize the species by them alone. 
The front angle of the horn is very sharp, and near the 
base it actually overhangs the face of the horn. This 
feature is constant. In about nine cases out of every ten, 
the horns of the Black Sheep are distinguished by their 
widely-spreading spiral, and the great distance between 
the tips. Occasionally, however, a head develops horns 
with a more narrow spiral, like those of the typical White 
Sheep; but all such are exceptional. 

The White Sheep has an immense range, covering 
half of Alaska, and practically the whole of Yukon Terri- 
tory. It is all over pure white, save when stained by con- 
tact with wet earth or dulled by age. Occasionally an 
individual is found which has a few dark hairs in its 
tail, and others thinly scattered on its hind quarters. Of 
the original species, Ovis dalll, two subspecies have been 
described; but neither are separately discernible without 
a close examination of their skulls. In section, the horns 
of the White Sheep are very much like those of the Black 
Sheep, but those of northwestern Alaska show the flat 
spiral, and have the tips closer together. The exceptions 



itf CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

are those which spread widely, like the typical horns of 
Black Sheep; and of that form Mr. Sheldon collected 
some striking examples. 

Fannin's Mountain Sheep (O. fannini) was described 
by the writer from a Klondyke specimen in the Victoria 
Museum, marked by a well-defined blanket of gray hair 
on its back and sides, a dark gray tail, a brown stripe down 
the front of each leg, white abdomen, pure white neck 
and head, and horns like the White Sheep. Although 
other specimens exactly similar to the type have been 
taken, several others have shown a lighter phase, running 
farther toward the typical White Sheep. At present this 
species is being weighed in the balance, and when the 
studies of Mr. Sheldon's collection have been finished, 
its true character will be known. At present we can only 
say that it is a form standing between the white and 
black species. 

The most remarkable feature of the three mountain 
rams shot by Mr. Phillips, and one which instantly at- 
tracted the attention of us all, was the manner in which 
their countenances were disfigured. Each of the two 
larger rams had on his nose, half way between horns and 
nostrils, an abnormal hump an inch in height above the 
normal outline. It reminded us of the old saying about 
11 an inch on the end of your nose." To produce such an 
excrescence by hand, one would need to strike a mountain 
ram across the nose, half a dozen good blows with a ham- 
mer or a club, daily for about a week. 

Fortunately the epidermis had not been beaten off, 
nor had there been any suppuration, and therefore the 



MOUNTAIN SHEEP NOTES 257 

hair was intact. Of course those humps had been caused 
by fighting, long continued and oft renewed. When the 
horns of the combatants crashed together at their bases, 
the noses of the rams also struck together. On dissecting 
the heads, we found the skin over each hump quite free 
from the nasal bones, but underneath the skin there had 
formed a layer of tough gristle three-quarters of an inch 
thick, and apparently of a permanent character. 

The accompanying photograph shows the appearance 
of the head of " the Brooklyn Ram "; but this hump was 
not so large as that on Ram No. 1. 

On dissecting the heads of Mr. Phillips's oldest moun- 
tain rams, a hump on the top of the neck, partly covering 
the base of the skull, also attracted general attention. In 
each case the calloused excrescence was very large, 
sharply defined, and so slightly merged into the upper 
surface of the neck that it was the work of but a moment 
to detach one, bodily, with the knife. 

I cut off the largest hump, and preserved it in alcohol. 
It was two and one-eighth inches high, six inches in 
length on the curve, and seven inches in width on the 
curve. The accompanying sketch shows the position and 
proportions of this strange growth. As found upon a 
freshly-killed animal, it has the density and toughness of 
a mass of soft rubber. Its composition is of tough white 
fibre and fat, and while very solid it is not as dense as a 
large tendon. As detached, the mass weighs sixteen 
ounces. It could easily be dismissed by calling it a 
nuchal callosity. 

Naturally, this huge bunch of combined elasticity and 



258 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

toughness suggests a cushion, for the protection of some- 
thing from severe shock or strain. It lies directly over 
the occiput and the first two cervical vertebrae, and is 
built upon the ligamentum nuchi, which lies upon the 
top of the neck, and forms the chief support of the head. 
Its anterior end spreads fan-shaped over the lambdoidal 
crest and the parietal bone, firmly grasping the rear upper 




Nuchal Hump of Our Largest Ovis Canadensis. 



surface of the skull. Of course the posterior end of this 
mass vanishes on the upper surface of the neck. 

On young rams and ewes — with small horns — this 
strange reinforcement is not found. Evidently it is devel- 
oped as an extra means of support for the heavy horns 
of old rams, and a provision against cerebro-spinal men- 
ingitis from overstrain on the spinal cord. 

In the rutting season, and also shortly before it, two 



MOUNTAIN SHEEP NOTES 159 

rival rams will choose a level spot, back off ten or fifteen 
feet from each other, and come together with a force 
like two heavy sledgehammers wielded by blacksmiths. 
The force of the impact sometimes throws both combat- 
ants upright on their hind legs, just as colliding locomo- 
tives often rear up as they crash together. It is then that 
the strain upon the neck of the animal is very great; and 
the wrench and shock are greatest at the point where the 
neck joins the skull. Small wonder, then, that Nature, 
in her infinite wisdom and patience, has reinforced the 
danger-point with a rubber-like ligament of such enor- 
mous strength that the neck cannot be broken by any 
blow from in front. 

Captain C. E. Radcliffe, of the Life Guards, author 
of " Big-Game Shooting in Alaska," claims that moun- 
tain sheep do not break or broom the tips of their horns 
in fighting, as many sportsmen and naturalists have 
hastily concluded that they do. I entirely agree with 
him. When Mr. Phillips and I placed together the un- 
skinned heads of those two big rams, with their massive 
horns base to base, just as we know that sheep horns strike 
in fighting, we saw that the tips of the two pairs were far 
distant from each other, and well out of harm's way. As 
sheep strike each other in fighting, head to head, it is a 
physical impossibility for the tips to be harmed. And 
even if a horn should be struck, it would need to be held 
tightly in a vise in order for its tip to receive a blow of 
sufficient force to break it off, or even to " broom " it. 

Take it at any point you please, the horn of a living 
mountain sheep ram eight or nine years old is a very hard 



s6o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

and tough^ proposition. Even with an old, dry horn, I 
think no man can take a hammer and break off its tip 
without first fixing the horn very firmly in a vise. I have 
recently tried the experiment, with sheep horns dry 
enough to be as brittle as such horns usually are, and it is 
my belief that no sheep can break off the tip of a horn 
save in a fall such as he never would take voluntarily. 
In leaping down rocky situations, no American mountain 
sheep could fall upon the tips of his horns without crush- 
ing his nose ; and that no sheep would willingly do. 

Captain Radcliffe says that he has seen mountain 
sheep rubbing the ends of their horns against rocks, and 
he believes that sometimes sheep purposely try to rub off 
the tips of their horns, because in their upward growth 
they interfere with the animal's vision, and constitute both 
an annoyance and a disability.* Similar observations 
have been made by Mr. F. B. Wellman, of Banff, who 
shares Captain Radcliffe's belief regarding the purpose 
of the act. For myself, I cannot agree with these ob- 
servers concerning the object of this act. It would re- 
quire an immense amount of effort for a ram to rub away 
the ends of his horns. 

The Big-Horn is almost strictly a grazing animal. 
His natural feeding-grounds are the high mountain 
meadows which lie from 1,000 feet below timberline up to 
the snow-line. In the mountains of British Columbia they 
feed mostly around the heads of the slide-ways, where the 
turf is seldom torn up by the avalanches. Close by are 
sheltering crags and rock walls that tower far above. 

* See Shields' Magazine, January, 1906. 




'-w ^ 



MOUNTAIN SHEEP NOTES 



161 



But, while the mountain sheep dwells among and near 
the cliffs, and knows how to utilize them to the utmost 
in making a " masterly retreat," he rarely ventures on the 
dizzy ledges that delight the soul of the mountain goat. 
The mountain sheep can climb, boldly and well ; but, like 
a sportsman who has passed his fiftieth year-post, he does 
not care to climb high without good reason. 

The sheep killed by Mr. Phillips had been feeding 
on bunch-grass, which grew abundantly on the side of 
Cyclorama Ridge. Charles L. Smith says that sheep are 
very fond of feeding on the " wild pea," or hedysarum 
(H. Americanum) , the root of which is so acceptable to 
the grizzly bear. 

The specimens of mountain sheep which we handled 
so soon after our work on mountain goats, naturally sug- 
gested comparisons between the two species. 



COMPARISON OF MOUNTAIN SHEEP, MOUNTAIN GOAT 
AND MULE DEER 



Big-Horn 

Sheep. 

Adult Male. 



Mountain 

Goat.* 

Adult Male. 



Mule 
Deer.f 
Adult 
Male. 



Height at shoulders, in inches 
Length of head and body, in inches 
Girth behind fore leg 

" at middle of body " " 
Weight 



4i 

69 

53 

571 
316 lbs. 



39 
61 

53 

57 
276 lbs. 



42 
62 

45 



* The writer shot and measured an old goat that stood 42 inches high at 
the shoulders, but it was so old, and so thin in flesh, it was not weighed, 
t Shot by W. T. H. on Hell Creek, Montana, October 9, 1901. 



262 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

The Big-Horn Sheep is an animal of nervous-san- 
guine temperament, not so insanely foolish as the mule 
deer and white-tailed deer, nor yet so lymphatic as the 
goat. It is a far more graceful walker and runner than 
the goat, and also more agile and fleet of foot. A moun- 
tain sheep can run over rough ground, or leap through 
the mazes of down timber, as nimbly as any deer, and as 
rapidly. A goat runs on level ground with the grace and 
ease of a fat yearling calf, but not much more. 

As will be seen by a glance at the measurements re- 
corded in this volume, the adult male goat and sheep are 
of the same height, but the latter averages about twenty- 
five pounds (the weight of his horns!) heavier. The 
abundant hair on the legs of the goat makes those mem- 
bers seem thicker and shorter than they are — which 
is really great, — and this effect is increased by the abun- 
dant pelage of the body, neck and head. The more slender 
and shapely legs and finely erect carriage of the head 
make the mountain sheep a stately and handsome ani- 
mal, while in appearance the goat remains a zoological 
curiosity. 

The sheep is much more alert and suspicious than the 
goat, and most men who have hunted both animals be- 
lieve that the vision of the former is much keener. This 
impression may be due to greater fear, and a tendency 
to flee at the slightest alarm. 

The hoof of the goat is distinctly larger than that 
of a mountain sheep of the same age, and more square 
in outline. The goat's toe is broad, and the bottom 
of the hoof is a combination of ball and cup. The 



MOUNTAIN SHEEP NOTES 263 

hoof of the sheep is more pointed, and its bottom is 
cup-shaped. 

The natural enemies of the mountain sheep in British 
Columbia are the golden and the white-headed eagle, and 
farther south, the puma, or " mountain lion." In the 
western Kootenay country, a guide who was in the moun- 
tains in May saw a golden eagle bearing off a mountain 
sheep lamb. He followed the bird, and finally found its 
nest, and its brood of eaglets. Around the nest lay the 
skulls of several lambs, showing that the mother bird had 
been making a specialty of that kind of food for her 
young. The young eagles were promptly destroyed. 

On the Shoshone Mountains in Wyoming, east of the 
Yellowstone Park, my one-time guide, Charles Marston, 
once saw a puma seize a mountain sheep ram by the 
throat, and hold on with a fierce grasp of tooth and claw 
while puma and ram rolled down the mountain side for 
a number of yards. The puma held fast to the throat, 
sucking the blood of the ram, until the latter expired. 
Then, to even up matters, Marston killed the puma. Be- 
yond a doubt, in localities like Wyoming and Colorado, 
many mountain sheep have been killed by pumas. 

Although I am no pessimist regarding the perma- 
nence of animal life, I am compelled to believe that unless 
several great provincial game and forest reserves are at 
once set aside in British Columbia, the mountain sheep 
of that province are doomed to speedy extinction. To 
the Stoney Indian, to the hungry trapper, and to every 
sportsman, that fine animal is so great a prize, both for 
its valuable trophy head and for food, that it will con- 



264 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

tinue to be sought, everywhere, so long as the law permits 
the hunting of it. It is the boast of the Stoney Indians, — 
the boldest mountaineers in the Columbian Rockies, — 
that no big game can live in any country which they them- 
selves inhabit. This is no idle boast, for they are great 
slaughterers of game. 

While the killing of " hungers " (old rams) will not 
exterminate a species, there are men who will not always 
go without fresh meat when ewes and lambs are to be 
had for the killing. In total number, the sheep of south- 
ern British Columbia already are down to a very low 
point. Many an eastern sportsman has gone to that coun- 
try to kill a big ram, worked hard, spent nearly or quite 
$1,000, and returned empty handed — because of the 
scarcity of sheep. 

It would indeed be cause for great regret if any com- 
bination of circumstances should bring about in the splen- 
did mountain lands of British Columbia, the extinction 
of the grandest mountain sheep in America. 



CHAPTER XIX 

A PANORAMIC GRIZZLY-BEAR HUNT 

Luck as a Factor in Bear Hunting — An Exhausting Climb — A Silver- 
Tip Sighted — Mr. Phillips and Mack Run for it — A Summit Stroll 
Between the Acts — The Ball Opens — A Long Chase — Snap-Shots 
Only, and at Long Range — A Good Long Shot — Mack's Fusillades 
— A Foot-Shot Bear, and Chaff for the Victors. 

IT is strange how luck works out things for hunters. 

If we had had no mountain sheep specimens to finish 
on the forenoon of September 23d, and had gone up the 
mountain some hours earlier, it is reasonably certain that 
we would have missed seeing what we saw later on that 
eventful day. 

Beyond question, luck has much to do with the net 
results in hunting, and particularly in the pursuit of the 
grizzly. Of course, after all has been said, it is the strong 
lungs and straight powder that wins ; but at the same time 
I pity any hunter who is prone to be unlucky. Only 
yesterday a noted grizzly-bear hunter said to me, " We 
saw twenty-one grizzly bears on that trip, and we hunted 
hard, but we never got a shot! " When I said, " Why, 
on earth? " he answered, with a fatalistic shrug, " Mostly 
on account of the tangle of rank, snow-dragged willow 
brush on the slides where the bears fed. It always took 

so long to fight our way up to where a bear was feeding 

265 



i66 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

that by the time we got there he was gone, and couldn't 
be found." 

As an instance, however, of luck combined with effort, 
the events of our day were interesting. 

Mr. Phillips was anxious that I should have a hunt 
for mountain sheep, and bring out for my own personal- 
trophy collection a good Columbian head. Having al- 
ready had a fine hunt for sheep in Wyoming, I was at 
first positively averse to killing even one more sheep. 
Finally, however, I concluded that he was right in assur- 
ing me that the taking of another ram would have no 
exterminating tendency, and I decided to kill one if the 
chance offered. Mr. Phillips and Mack felt sure that 
other sheep could be found on the mountain north of 
Camp Necessity, whereon the three rams had been killed, 
and they insisted that we ought to go up that afternoon to 
" locate a band for the director." We also wished to carry 
down a quantity of meat from the previous kill. After 
an early luncheon, Mr. Phillips, Mack, Charlie and I 
started up. 

It was a hot afternoon. There was hardly a breath 
of air stirring, and the southern slope up which we 
climbed caught the full glare of the sun. After we got 
clear of the down timber, and were well started up, the 
going was by no means bad, even though the slope was 
as steep as usual. 

On that occasion I acted very badly. The heat in my 
lungs became horribly oppressive, and the exertion of 
climbing was the hardest I had yet been called upon to 
make. At every step my knee-breeches caught on my 



A PANORAMIC GRIZZLY-BEAR HUNT 267 

knees, and caused a loss of fully ten per-cent of my horse- 
power. It was like an addition of eighteen pounds to my 
weight, until at last I gathered four safety pins from the 
party, and took a reef in each leg of my trousers, so that 
they ceased to drag. 

As we slowly climbed, the perspiration ran off my 
face like rain, and soon I was in a Turkish-bath condition, 
plus my clothes. 

" Take it easy," said my ever-patient companions. 
" There's no hurry. Rest whenever you get tired." 

Mack Norboe led the way, choosing the route care- 
fully with a view to making the climb as easy for me as 
the ground would allow. His easy " panther stride," 
as Mr. Phillips aptly called it, seemed absolutely tireless. 
About every two hundred feet upward, my lungs simply 
gave out, and I was forced to stop, and pant for my 
vanished breath. I was disgusted and mortified beyond 
endurance, and at last even became very angry, — but all 
to no purpose. The sun and the mountain were both 
inexorable, and my feebly-growing reputation as a moun- 
taineer melted away forever. How I envied those three 
one-hundred-and-forty-pound men, in good training, who 
went up with ease and nonchalance that were almost 
maddening to see! 

On the way up we passed the carcasses of two of Mr. 
Phillips's rams, and we saw where they were first seen, 
how they ran, where they fell, and how they rolled. That 
was a wonderful chance, — to get a bunch of large rams on 
that open mountain-side, where long-range shooting was 
practicable, — and the shooting had been exceedingly well 



268 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

done. As before noted, the sheep were far from safety 
rocks when the hunter opened fire. 

At last we reached the top of that awful mountain, 
and sat down to rest on Cyclorama Point, where the great 
ridge stops short in its easterly course. Take a large 
visiting card, fold it lengthwise along the middle, back 
the western end of it up against a conical ink-bottle and 
you will have the topography, with the eastern point as 
our coign of vantage. 

The top of the ridge was barely wide enough for a 
game trail, and the trail was there, leading back to the 
tall peak farther west. From the crest, the northern slope 
fell away even more steeply than the southern, but it 
was well covered with green timber. Far below us, a 
mile at least, a creek ran through a narrow valley, and 
on the farther side of that another mountain ridge, two 
miles long from bottom to top and three miles long from 
end to end, swept steeply upward. It was a crazy-quilt 
of green timber, brush, slide-rock and dead timber. 

As usual when hunters reach the top of a lofty ridge, 
and a new prospect opens to view, every eye quickly 
swept the opposite mountain-side in quest of big game. 
Mack Norboe had not looked through his glasses for 
more than ten seconds when his low, deeply-resonant 
voice rumbled out of the depths of his chest. 

" I see a big grizzly! Come here, and I'll show him 
to you." I went. 

" He's right over there, in the open, near the east 
side of that patch of green timber," and in an instant 
more every eye had picked it out. 



A PANORAMIC GRIZZLY-BEAR HUNT 269 

What we saw was an oblong speck of dull black, with 
a faintly-discernible wedge of a lighter tint driving into 
it from the left side. 

"Are you sure it's a grizzly? " 

,c It's a silver-tip all right," said John Phillips. " I 
can see the light mark behind the fore-leg." 

" He's eating berries," said Charlie Smith. " There 
now! he's standing on his hind legs! " 

The bear was on a slide that had become overgrown 
with bushes, and quite near to an island-like patch of 
several acres of green timber, — an excellent refuge in 
time of trouble. West of that another slide ran down; 
and beyond that lay a tract of several hundred acres of 
green timber, in which the chase of an able-bodied bear, 
at four-thirty P. M., would be quite hopeless. The dis- 
tance from the creek up to the bear was about half a 
mile, and as usual, the ascent was steep and tangled. 

It was then twenty minutes of four o'clock, and it 
would be dark at six. Of course the hunt led directly 
away from camp. It would take first class work to get 
over to that bear, find it, and kill it before sunset, saying 
nothing of getting back to camp. It was a thrilling mo- 
ment, and called for swift action. 

" That bear is two good miles from here," said Char- 
lie, breathing hard. 

" Well, if we get him before night we've got to be 
a-movin'! " said Mack very earnestly. 

"Then get ready for a run!" cried Mr. Phillips. 
11 Can you make it, Director? " 

Now, I am no gambler; but I take pride in knowing 



270 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

one thing that every good poker-player knows, — wrien 
to " lay down " my hand. 

" No, I think not. I would only be a hindrance to 
the rest of you, and I might be the means of your losing 
the bear. Go ahead; and I'll stay here and see you do 
it. I've got my grizzly, and that one is yours, in any 
event." 

" I'll stay here, too," said Charlie. " Now, you fel- 
lows light right out" 

Meanwhile, Mr. Phillips was hurriedly removing 
from his person everything that could be spared, even 
to his pocket knife; for in a run like that about to be 
made, every ounce counts. 

" Come on, Jack! " cried Mack. With his blue eyes 
glinting, and his face aglow he backed over the edge of 
the rim-rock, and dashed down into the green timber, 
with John leaping after him, like two deer escaping from 
a pen. The ground was soft, and they ran with great 
plunging strides, covering at least eight feet at every 
step. It was surprising that neither of them pitched 
headlong downward against a tree trunk. In five seconds 
the green shadows had swallowed them. 

" I pity that bear, with those wolves after him," said 
Charlie, reflectively. 

He sat down, as agreed, to watch the bear constantly, 
and to give semaphore signals, with his hat, to show the 
location of the animal whenever the time came to attack 
it. It had been agreed, as an estimate, that it would take 
the hunters an hour to reach the bear by the course they 
had mapped out as most likely to lead to success. 



A PANORAMIC GRIZZLY-BEAR HUNT 271 

I decided to take advantage of this brief interval, in 
a still-hunt westward along the top of the ridge, in quest 
of sheep, and without the loss of a moment I left Charlie 
and set out. 

It was a lovely hunt, prosecuted in a most orthodox 
manner, but it yielded nothing larger or more serious 
than a big and prosperous yellow-haired porcupine. 
Him I found in the green timber of the northern slope 
about fifty feet down. I learned of him through his 
querulous, whining talk. He said, " Uh! uh! uh! uh! 
uh! uh! uh! " over and over, in the thin, high-pitched 
nasal voice of a barn-yard hen who thinks she can sing 
in the sun, and attempts to prove it. The note starts low 
and faint, and increases in volume but not in pitch, until 
it can be heard a hundred yards or more. The note struck 
by that particular porcupine was the same as the third G 
above middle C on a piano. 

After watching Erethizon epixanthus for a few min- 
utes, I hastened on up the ridge, following the well-worn 
game trail that leads along the summit. After a swiftly- 
covered stretch of two miles I reached the peak and 
precipice at the western end of the ridge, and briefly 
viewed the great rocky basin in which the valley termi- 
nates, against the sheer wall. Although I prospected 
some fine sheep rocks, I saw neither sheep nor deer; but 
a week later, when John and Mack stood in that same 
spot, enveloped in clouds, they heard a band of sheep 
walking over the slide-rock a few score feet below them, 
but safely hidden from view. 

Having traversed the entire ridge, I wheeled about 



272 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

and started back almost on a run, to reach Charlie's look- 
out point by the time the hunters began their attack on 
the bear. I was not a moment too soon, for at twenty 
minutes past five, I heard John's 405 roar and echo in 
the canyon. The shot was quickly followed by five or 
six others, and it was clear that the battle was on. 

Covering my remaining distance on a keen run, I 
joined Charlie on the rim-rock, just as the first fusillade 
ended. A little later, when we saw the bear break out 
of the timber island into the open slide, we thought it 
had escaped ; but when we saw it roll, and then heard the 
roar of Mr. Phillips's big gun, we yelled our approval. 
But we were a trifle premature. We were terribly dis- 
appointed when the pursuing hunters, without a sound 
in reply to us, disappeared in the brush and timber. We 
knew they were following a wounded animal; and in 
thick and tangled willow brush, a wounded bear is what 
Sioux Indians call " bad medicine." 

After quite a long interval, we heard more firing, 
and saw the boys running. We were able to locate them 
by Mr. Phillips's white undershirt. Presently we saw 
arms wildly semaphoring, and triumphant yells came 
pealing across the valley. By those tokens we knew that 
the bear was dead. We yelled back our approval and 
congratulations, but when I shouted " Is-it-a.-big-one? " 
the wires immediately stopped working! 

Charlie had not once seen the two hunters, and had 
no knowledge of their movements, until they opened fire. 
Even then, the distance was so great, and their clothing 
so perfectly matched with their surroundings, it was only 



A PANORAMIC GRIZZLY-BEAR HUNT 273 

because Mr. Phillips had taken off his outer shirt of gray 
flannel that we were able to locate him by his white under- 
shirt. Besides, they made the run in record-breaking 
time, and Charlie did not expect them to reach the bear 
so quickly. 

John Phillips declares he and Norboe reached the 
creek at the foot of the mountain in the quickest time they 
ever made. Within ten minutes after they left us, they 
found a foaming stream of ice-cold water. 

" Last chance to drink! " cried Mack, throwing him- 
self flat upon the stones. Mr. Phillips did not dare to 
drink, for fear of the effect it might have on his wind in 
the hard run upward; but he flung himself down, and 
plunged his head into the water. Dripping from the 
stream, he rose and dashed at the steep slope of the north- 
ern mountain, gaining a few seconds on Norboe. 

For several reasons, the hunters dared not run directly 
toward the bear. It might detect them, and if it took 
alarm before they could get in a fatal shot, they would 
have a hard time chasing it up hill. So they bore away 
westwardly, to make a long detour through the big tract 
of green timber that would bring them out above their 
quarry. Like all mountain-climbing through green tim- 
ber, they had to work hard for all they won. They went 
up fully a mile before swinging eastward, and then an- 
other mile before reaching their game. 

Once when they reached a small open slide, they 
halted in the opening, and with their binoculars looked 
across at Charlie. He was sharply defined on the skyline, 
but made no sign of any kind. They waved to him, f ran- 



274 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

tically, many times ; but he saw them not, and of course 
made no signals. They were desperately eager to know 
whether the bear had moved, and if so, whither. They 
scolded, and waved, and fumed, and waved some more; 
but Charlie sat with his binoculars glued to his eyes, as 
impassive as Farragut on his pedestal. With all his faith- 
ful watching, Charlie says, " I never saw hair nor hide 
of 'em until after the ball opened! " So the hunters had 
to proceed without the aid of their semaphore station; 
and this was Mack's final growl: 

" From the way Smidty's glued to them glasses, you'd 
think he'd never seen a b'ar afore! It's up to us to find 
and kill that b'ar, wherever it is." 

They steered southeast through the green timber, 
keenly observant of everything in sight, hoping to dis- 
cover the bear before it saw them. Vain hope! It had 
moved westward into the timber islet, passed through it 
and out into the slideway that bounded its western side. 
It was heading for the large tract of timber, and was 
almost in it, when it detected the on-coming hunters. 
Whether it saw them, or heard them, or smelled them, 
no one can say; but I suspect that it both saw and heard 
them. Charlie says that suddenly it wheeled about, and 
raced back toward the island of green timber. When 
the hunters in the timber first caught sight of the bear, it 
was running from them at full speed, and was half way 
across the brush-covered slideway. Mr. Phillips, who 
was leading, caught sight of it, through the overhanging 
spruce boughs, and instantly fired. The bear flinched 
slightly, but ran the faster. Immediately he sent forward 



A PANORAMIC GRIZZLY-BEAR HUNT 275 

three more balls, and Mack, seeing that the bear was 
running well, joined in the melee) but all this seemed 
only to accelerate the animal's speed. 

The bear won its race for life to the edge of the green 
timber, and plunged into its shadowy depths. " Come 
on, Jack! " yelled Norboe, " let's git out of this timber, 
and catch him when he runs across the open slide." And 
he plunged down the bank. 

At the edge of the open ground, Mr. Phillips sat 
down and waited for a shot. Very soon the bear broke 
cover, on the farther side of the timber islet, nearly four 
hundred yards away. With a careful long shot, holding 
high and ahead, he caught the animal high up in the 
flank. The bullet ranged forward and lodged in the 
opposite shoulder; and the bear rolled heels over head 
in the brush. 

This made five shots that Mr. Phillips had fired, 
which emptied his gun. As he began to reload, Mack 
broke past him on a keen run. He has been in at the 
death of many a bear, and his motto is, " When you git 
a b'ar down, git in quick, and keep him down ! " 

" Hold on, Mack! Wait! " yelled Phillips ; and with- 
out waiting to finish his reloading he sprang to his feet 
and raced after his excited comrade. Half way across 
the slide, Mr. Phillips ran into a clump of snow-bent 
willows, and fell headlong. When he regained his feet 
and looked ahead, he saw that Mack was in a like pre- 
dicament. Many a fine bear has been lost through an 
excess of snow-bent willow brush on the slides where 
they feed. 



276 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

While Mack was wallowing in the brush, John over- 
took him, and together they raced through the timber, 
and out upon the slide beyond, to the spot where the bear 
had fallen. Alas! their quarry had disappeared! But 
the hunters knew from the blood-stained trail, and a wide 
swath of broken weeds, that the grizzly was dragging its 
hind-quarters, and could not be far away. They tried to 
send Kaiser after it, but he flatly declined to go alone. 
Norboe then followed the trail down the timbered point 
toward the creek, while Phillips scouted lower down on 
the brush-covered slide in order to head off the bear from 
the heavy green timber beyond. 

They had gone but a short distance when Mack, reach- 
ing an elevated point at the end of the timber, and look- 
ing across the slide down to the bank of the creek, 
caught glimpses of the bear a hundred and fifty yards 
away, in some willow bushes. His companion was in a 
low spot, half way between himself and the bear. Imme- 
diately he began firing, over Mr. Phillips's head, and 
emptied his .33-Winchester of the eight shots it contained. 
John, floundering on the slide below, could see nothing 
on account of the high willows, and during the fusillade 
kept yelling, in desperation, " Hold on, Mack! Wait 
till I get there! Don't kill him! I want to photograph 
him!" 

The only thing in the West that can excite Mack 
Norboe beyond control is an unfinished grizzly bear; 
and so he kept on firing. 

When they finally reached the bear, they found it 
dead. Then its sex changed ; for it proved to be a female. 



A PANORAMIC GRIZZLY-BEAR HUNT 277 

Mr. Phillips had shot it as described above, while Mack 
had put one of his eight shots through its back. The 
greatest joke of the whole trip was that the bear had three 
bullets through its right hind foot, two in the left, and 
one in a front paw; and all of them had entered from 
belowl 

As soon as the last firing ended, the long-distance 
shouts of the hunters told us of their triumph. We were 
barely able to see them with our glasses, but we yelled 
back our pleasure in their success. By that time, the day 
was nearly done, and in order not to be benighted in the 
down timber, Charlie and I turned, and began a swift 
retreat down the mountain. He set a racing pace, but I 
showed him that when piloted in the proper direction, 
I am a very good mountaineer. But even going down 
hill, the side of the mountain seemed almost endless, and 
I was glad to see through the heavy shadows of the green 
timber the gleam of the camp-fire, and hear Huddleston's 
cheery " Hello." 

Half an hour later, we were astonished by the 
arrival of John and Mack, hot and tired, but triumph- 
ant. They came to camp down the creek on which 
they had killed the bear, and both complained bitterly 
of the treatment they received from its down timber and 
rock-slides. By this we knew that both must have been 
very bad. 

The boys told of their bad shooting with great glee, 
and we chaffed them long and uproariously over their 
foot-shot bear. Mr. Phillips thought that some of the 
holes in the feet might have been made during the first 



278 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

attack, when the bear rushed up out of the slide. She was 
then running diagonally away from them, and they could 
catch only occasional glimpses of her. There was no such 
thing as a fair shot, and a proper lead. In the difficult 
snap-shot firing which followed, she simply ran away 
from the bullets. 

Inasmuch as both the boys are excellent shots, 
particularly when big game is afoot, I became deeply 
interested in finding out how that bear got so many shots 
in her feet, from below. It is quite true that when a bear 
is galloping away from a hunter, the soles of the hind feet 
are thrown so far up in the air that a bullet fired from 
behind, and from a lower level, might strike them. But 
it seems that Norboe last saw the bear alive, and 
fired the eight shots which finished her as she lay on 
her back, in a tangle of brush, at the edge of the creek. 
He said, 

" Well, she laid thar on her back, and waved her hind 
feet at me till she looked like a spinnin' wheel covered 
with b'ar feet; and I shore shot at all I saw! " 

It is my opinion that the majority of those feet were 
shot by Norboe, in the last assault, when there was 
nothing else in sight at which to fire. Altogether, it was 
one of the most remarkable results in shooting that I ever 
examined. 

The pelage of this bear was very fine and beautiful, 
being long, abundant, and of rich colors. Judging from 
the skin, Charlie Smith and I guessed the weight of the 
bear at between four hundred and four hundred and fifty 
pounds, but she scaled only three hundred and twenty 




Mr. Phillips Regrets the Impending Extinction of the Grizzly Bear 



A PANORAMIC GRIZZLY-BEAR HUNT 279 

pounds, gross. When stretched upon its frame, the skin 
looked so handsome that Mr. Phillips decided to offer it 
to the Carnegie Museum, at Pittsburg, to be mounted for 
a place in a future group of grizzly bears. Eventually it 
was so offered, and promptly accepted. 



CHAPTER XX 

AVALANCHE AND SLIDE-ROCK 

The " Snow-Slide " — An Ideal Mountain Section — Creek Buried Under 
Slide-Rock — Timber Wrecked by Avalanche — Slides and Wild 
Animals — How Slides Originate — Twelve Slides in One Mile 
— Slide-Rock — How Mountain Peaks Change to Steep Slopes — An 
Object Lesson in False Notch. 

OUT in British Columbia they call them " snow- 
slides," or merely " slides," because there are so many 
of them it takes too much time to say " avalanche." But, 
call it what you may, the snow-slide is the logical se- 
quence of steep mountains and abundant snow. 

Take your own house-roof in winter, pile upon it a 
foot of snow, then send a January thaw with water run- 
ning on the shingles. The thundering rush, the shiver, 
and the ultimate crash which you hear tells the story 
of a miniature snow-slide. Take one of those micro- 
scopic slides, magnify it ten million diameters, send it 
half a mile down a very steep incline, with the speed 
and power of an express train, and you will have an 
ordinary snow-slide, such as occur by the thousand 
every spring in the house-roof mountains of British 
Columbia. 

From man's view-point a snow-slide is awe-inspiring, 
and in its open season, profoundly dangerous. As viewed 

by Nature, it is one of her ordinary processes, very quick 

2 8o 



AVALANCHE AND SLIDE-ROCK 281 

and useful in paring down steep mountains, and filling 
up narrow valleys. Incidentally, they furnish early pas- 
tures for the mountain flocks, and the best of hunting- 
grounds for men who come with rifles to take toll of the 
wilds. 

The eastern mountain-side on Avalanche Creek was 
an ideal section for the study of Nature's methods as 
manifested in slides. The story of the avalanche was 
written out along miles of roof-like slopes, and divided 
into many chapters. I spent hours in climbing over them, 
and in trying to read aright the things written there. 

One incident that awakens one to a realizing sense 
of the majesty, and at times the terrors, of the forces ex- 
erted in that spot is finding the brawling waters of the 
creek disappearing under a hill of slide-rock nearly forty 
feet high! The avalanches have rushed this great mass 
down from the Phillips Mountains, and piled it clear 
across the valley. But for the open-work character of 
this great natural dam, which permits the waters of the 
creek to run under it in its original bed, the valley above 
it would now be a lake, thirty feet deep at the spot where- 
on our camp stood. As the perpendicular face of the east- 
ern mountain is split off and thrown down by water 
freezing and expanding in its millions of crevices, the 
annual spring snow-slide gathers up a few thousand tons 
or so, rushes it down the icy slope at express-train speed, 
and spreads it a quarter of a mile wide over the surface 
of the existing hill. It is mixed with thousands of tons 
of snow, as a matrix, but ere long the latter melts away, 
and there remains only an innocent looking hill bestrewn 



282 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

with fresh slide-rock the size of paving stones. As usual, 
the slide-rock surface is immaculately clean, gray, sharp- 
edged, and cruel to man and beast. 

About two miles farther down there is another mani- 
festation of a very different character, and as a revelation 
of power, it is enough to send a thrill of awe through a 
pack-horse. I watched its effect on Kaiser, and am sure 
he was deeply impressed by the sight. He sat near 
me on a high log, and looked over the wreck until called 
away. 

About ten years ago, an avalanche came down a long 
and very steep mountain-side, through a thick patch of 
green timber. Tall spruce trees, two feet in diameter and 
seventy-five feet high, were swept down bodily, root, stem 
and branch, as if they had been so many stalks of green 
corn. The mass of snow and ice which did this, for in 
it there was but little rock, must have been twenty or thirty 
feet thick when it struck the heaviest of the green timber, 
and solid as ice. As it went along, it tore up every tree, 
sapling and bush, leaving in its path not one stick of wood 
the size of a chair-post, and smashed the whole mass into 
the bottom of the valley. You can find it there now, piled 
twenty feet high above the bed of the creek, as shown in 
Mr. Phillips's excellent photograph. 

Trees eighteen inches in diameter were snapped in 
two; and one, with a stem as big as a large telegraph 
pole, was bent like a bow. It is partly in view in the 
left of the picture. The bark has weathered away from 
all these logs, and the tangled mass of smooth gray trunks 
now tells the story of the avalanche, just as the white 



AVALANCHE AND SLIDE-ROCK 283 

bones on the Montana ranges once told the story of 
buffalo slaughter. 

No wonder the timber-haunting mule deer jump and 
fly at break-neck speed whenever a mischief-loving 
hunter rolls a big rock over the edge of a cliff into their 
cover. They very wisely " fear the awful avalanche." 
For the same cause, bears and lynxes also madly fly for 
tall timber, to the hilarity of many a hunter. They are 
wise to side-step quickly whenever they hear a roar 
higher up. 

But the mountain sheep and goats are different. They 
dwell mostly where the snow-slides start, and they fear 
the latter very little. A goat cares naught for a falling 
rock, and to him an avalanche is an incident of passing 
interest, no more. Mr. W. H. Wright tells me that he 
once rolled several rocks directly over a goat that was 
feeding close to the foot of a mountain wall, and the ani- 
mal coolly went on with his luncheon. 

In order that I may here place before the Reader 
an exact and authoritative statement regarding the genesis 
and exodus of avalanches in the Canadian Rockies, our 
mountain savant, Mr. Charles L. Smith, has kindly 
written this: 

SNOW-SLIDES, AND THEIR DANGERS 

" But few people, except those living in a mountainous 
country, have any idea of the tremendous force of a snow- 
slide. There are two kinds, one of which we call a ' dry 
slide,' and the other a ' wet slide.' 



284 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

" On account of the wet and heavy condition of the 
snow, the wet slide has the greatest force, carrying before 
it everything that offers any resistance, except solid rock. 
These descend chiefly in the spring, the time varying 
according to the weather. After repeated freezing and 
thawing, the snow becomes granulated and coarse, so 
much so that it has little or no adhesive qualities, even 
under slight pressure. When in this condition, it is ex- 
tremely dangerous to disturb it, as the slightest jar, or 
anything touching it, often will set thousands of tons of 
it in motion. Once it is under way it runs like water, 
at least as long as the ground is steep, and it meets with 
no firm resistance. But once it reaches flat ground it 
stops, and the pressure from behind quickly becomes so 
heavy that it is at once formed into solid ice, and any- 
thing caught in it is instantly frozen. 

" One would naturally suppose that large standing 
trees could withstand a few feet of this moving snow, 
but such is not the case. Four or five feet is sufficient to 
break the largest trees, or tear them out by the roots, 
brushing them from the mountain-sides like so many 
straws. If the roots hold firmly, the tree is broken off 
near the ground. 

" In some respects the wet slides are not so dangerous 
as the dry slides, for the reason that they do not travel so 
fast, and do not spread out over so much ground. They 
follow more closely the bottoms of the ravines, never 
leaving their beds except in very short turns. On a sharp 
curve, the snow will leave the bed of a ravine and spread 
out on the long side of the turn for a height of from fifty 



AVALANCHE AND SLIDE-ROCK 285 

to a hundred feet; and woe to any living thing that is 
caught in its toils ! 

" When the snow is in the proper condition, a very 
small thing indeed will start a wet slide. A stone no 
larger than an egg, falling from some overhanging rock, 
or a handful of wet snow slipping from a shrub, is 
all that is required to set acres of the sodden stuff in 
motion. Once started, its power is resistless, and it de- 
scends with a mighty roar that may be heard for miles, 
carrying everything before it. When it is under full 
headway and strikes standing timber, it sweeps it down 
like grass before a sickle. The trees fall backward like 
grain before the reaper, and are carried down and 
ground to kindling-wood. In many respects the dry 
slide differs from the wet slide. It comes down only 
in very cold weather, when the snow is fresh and light. 
While it does not have the crushing weight of the wet 
slide, it is by far the most dangerous to human life. 
Generally it is started by the settling of the snow. In 
all high mountains where snow falls deep, one will 
notice that in passing over a body of newly-fallen snow, 
sometimes it will suddenly drop, as it were, with a swish- 
ing sound, and settle from one half to two inches. When 
this happens on very steep ground it will slide, and more 
especially if there is crusted snow underneath, affording 
it a smooth surface to start upon. 

11 A dry slide travels more swiftly than a wet one for 
the reason that it completely fills the air, and creates a 
driving wind equal to a tornado. When in sweeping 
down a steep drop it reaches a sharp turn, it will spread 



2 86 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

out and run up on the mountain-side sometimes five hun- 
dred feet; or, diving into a canyon, it will dash up the 
opposite side for scores of feet, carrying with it large trees 
and stones. Often a dry slide is half a mile wide, and 
any one caught in its path is almost sure to be either in- 
stantly killed, or buried in the blinding, seething mass 
of snow, and smothered. 

" If a hunter should be crossing the path of an on- 
coming slide, even if it were but a few hundred feet 
wide, he could never hope to reach safe ground; but if 
one is in a steep gulch and near a turn, by acting quickly 
one may possibly have a fair chance to escape by good 
judgment and quick action. One must always climb up 
on the short side of the turn, no matter what obstacles are 
in the way. In such a situation, a man's impulse would 
be to take the wrong side because it is always more clear 
of brush; but this open ground is only a snare, and the 
fact of its being clear should always teach us to keep 

away. 

" Where a gulch is straight for a long distance, the one 
in peril may then choose the shortest way out. The dan- 
gers of these slides are not so much from starting the snow 
one's self, as in being caught while crossing the foot of 
the slide-way, at the base of the mountain. The dry 
slides are so swift and terrible that the wind caused by 
them sometimes uproots timber some distance away. 

" Slides on southern slopes are less liable to start by 
being disturbed high up, except immediately after a 
storm, or in the early spring. As they are affected by the 
sun they soon become crusted, but on the northern slopes, 




Drawn by Charles B. Hudson, from photograph by Phillips. 

A Great Snow-Slide 

The total length of this slide is about two mi 



AVALANCHE AND SLIDE-ROCK 287 

where the sun does not strike, they are liable to start at 
any time." 

In the mountains of southeastern British Columbia, 
the spring months are beset with perils. The open season 
for avalanches is from February 1 to May 15, and during 
that period many men, — sometimes whole parties to- 
gether, — have been destroyed. In the early spring of 
1905 a bear hunter from New York City lost his life in 
the Fort Steele district. While crossing the head of a 
steep slideway, the snow gave way under his feet, he 
fell, and started an avalanche which carried him down 
and buried him under an enormous mass of snow and 
slide-rock. 

Usually it is prospectors and bear hunters who lose 
their lives in snow-slides, but occasionally a settlement 
is overwhelmed. The awful catastrophe at Frank, in 
1902, wherein nearly a hundred persons lost their lives, is 
still fresh in the minds of all persons who are interested 
in the great Northwest. 

It is a bold man, and it needs to be a hardy one, also, 
who goes a-hunting or prospecting in the summit ranges 
of the Canadian Rockies during any portion of the winter 
or spring. In my opinion, those high interior ranges were 
not made for winter use, and it is unfortunate that the 
best bear-hunting is to be found only at the worst season 
of the year. In May, after the bears have left their dens, 
the mountains are yet full of snow, particularly in the 
valleys and the green timber. Although the majority of 
the slide-ways are clear, the valleys are a-soak in snow- 



288 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

water which is colder than ice, and every camp is a wet 
one. Naturally, the guides and hunters go about with 
water-soaked feet and wet clothing, and if they do not 
have to sleep in wet blankets, they are lucky. 

The rheumatic tendencies in all this are very great, 
and it is no wonder that Charlie Smith, and many other 
mountain men who hunt bear in the spring, are afflicted 
by that painful malady. 

I was greatly impressed by the axe-like straightness 
with which an avalanche cuts its way through a mountain- 
side forest. You never see a slideway with ragged edges, 
or an occasional tree standing upon it. To-day I cannot 
remember any slideway stumps. No army of laborers 
ever cut a railway line through a forest with straighter 
sides than the snow-slide cuts for itself. Trees and brush 
are swept away, root, stem and branch, and the earth 
remaining is left all ready for cultivation. Nature then 
proceeds to plant it with the seeds of yellow willow, trail- 
ing juniper, aspen, hedysarum, snow lily, fire-weed, wild 
onion, and various grasses. 

Naturally, these clearings become so many sun gar- 
dens, and as the new vegetation develops, it attracts the 
ground-squirrel, chipmunk and snow-shoe rabbit, insects 
a few and birds a-many. It is upon them that about nine 
bears out of every ten are found, feeding, and either shot, 
or shot at, from the timber on one side. 

A very common agent for the starting of avalanches 
is the " snow comb " which often forms on one side of a 
sharp mountain-top, and overhangs like a gigantic cor- 
nice. Sometimes this overhanging comb is forty or fifty 




E 



S 
o 
U 



AVALANCHE AND SLIDE-ROCK 289 

feet thick, and hangs with wonderful tenacity. A snow 
comb is always a thing to be dreaded and shunned. If 
the climber is upon its crest, it is liable to break away 
under his feet, and dash him to destruction in the crush 
and smother of an avalanche. If he is below it, its fall 
upon him is equally fatal. These formations start many 
an avalanche; and sometimes they are so compact and 
hard that a huge section of a snow comb will roll down 
a mountain-side intact. 

The steeper you find a mountain roof, the greater will 
be the number of slides upon it; but the more numerous 
they are, the narrower they are. On the mountain-side 
opposite our camp on Goat Pass, there are twelve slides 
in a mile, all very much alike and very nicely spaced. 
Between twelve gullies there run up twelve fingers of 
timber and stunted bushes, — on a dozen little ridges, like 
the teeth of a comb. Near our camp on Avalanche 
Creek, there were ten or twelve slides on one side within 
a space of three miles, but they were much wider, and 
more irregular. As I remember it, the one which piled 
up the forty-foot hill of slide-rock over our creek was 
fully a quarter of a mile wide at its base. 

Often we passed over fields of slide-rock so vast and 
far removed from their parent cliffs, we were forced to 
wonder how they were formed. The most extensive was 
that found in the big bend of Avalanche Creek, which 
rounds off the southwestern angle of Phillips Mountains. 
Where our pack-train crossed it, on " the bloody trail," 
it was fully half a mile wide, and I think it was half a 
mile from bottom to top. 



2 9 o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

As we toiled over the great fields of foot-breaking 
gray limestone, — hard as flint, pointed to pierce, edged 
to cut and immaculately clean, — we could think only of 
snow-slides as the agencies which had conveyed them so 
far down from the summits. The principle of slide- rock 
is clear enough ; but even with one's imagination working 
over time, it is not easy to figure out the transportation 
of such enormous quantities of it. Naturally, the place 
for slide-rock is near the foot of the cliff from which it 
fell, and not three thousand feet away, in a mass equal to 
that of the pyramids of Gizeh, and half a mile wide. 

Take, for example, the spot whereon we killed our 
first goats. Originally, the ridge on which we stood when 
we fired was topped by a cliff. The cliff turned to slide- 
rock and fell away until there remained a ridge so low 
that no more slide-rock was given off. Then soil and 
timber began to cover the ridge, and there being no 
proper conditions for avalanches, the slide-rock remains 
to-day as it fell so long ago. Gradually it is being cov- 
ered with soil and brush, and young spruces; and finally 
" green timber " will grow upon it, and cover it with an 
evergreen mantle. 

On the summit of the mountain roof which Charlie 
Smith and I climbed in False Notch, the manner in which 
Nature pares down mountain peaks by the manufacture 
of slide-rock, was plainly written out. At the very spot 
where we climbed, there once had been a rocky cliff, 
joining the two peaks which still exist. Originally the 
two peaks must have been merely parts of one grand 
precipice, as high as their summits are to-day. 




The Pack-Train on a Great Field of Slide-Rock 

The "bloody trail," on Avalanche Creek, angle 30 . 



AVALANCHE AND SLIDE-ROCK 291 

But it seems that the centre of this great cliff was 
softer, or at least more friable, than either end; and at 
that point there began a great slide-rock factory. Gradu- 
ally the face of the cliff cracked off and fell in ragged 
fragments ; and the annual snow-slides that went thunder- 
ing down into the basin, carried with them great quanti- 
ties of talus from the foot of the cliff. As the face of the 
cliff fell away, and its summit receded farther and farther, 
the slide- rock built a new slope upon the mountain, rising 




An Object Lesson in False Notch. 
The making of slide-rock, and the destruction of peaks. 

higher and higher toward the summit. At last the per- 
pendicular cliff wall entirely disappeared, and in its place 
we have to-day that frightful slope, paved with naked 
slide-rock which is merely so much wreckage from the 
cliff and peak. To-day, instead of a precipice to crown 
the summit, the slide-rock slope extends on up to what 
once was the other side of the peak. There it cuts the 
western precipice, and ends in a knife-edge summit, 
" three feet wide in some places, and in some it's twenty." 



292 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

The accompanying sketch shows the situation, both 
as it was and as it is The peak to the left is slowly shar- 
ing the fate of its opposite neighbor, but its summit wall 
is yet well preserved. 

Quite rapidly the sharpest peaks and the sheerest walls 
of the Canadian Rockies are weathering down, and be- 
coming talus and slide-rock. And rapidly, also, are the 
avalanches filling up the valleys with slide-rock and soil, 
and tree-trunks torn from the steep slopes. Eventually 
the sharpest of these peaks will be rounded off into great 
knobs, like Bird Mountain and Bald Mountain; and their 
rounded tops will be crowned with thick skull-caps of 
broken rock. These mountains are yet young. If the 
world does not grow cold too soon for them, even the 
tallest of the peaks between the Elk and the Bull may yet 
be broken down to timberline, and their rounded tops 
may be covered with green timber. 

Regard them where you may, and how you may, these 
summit ranges tell wonderful stories of Nature's daily 
toil in her rocky mountain workshop. 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF THE BIG GAME 

Animal Life on the Summits — The Little Chief "Hare" — A Four- 
Footed Haymaker — The Fate of "Little Mike" — The Columbia 
River Ground-Squirrel — A Tiny Chipmunk — A Plethoric Ground- 
Squirrel — The Yellow-Haired Porcupine — The Pine Squirrel — 
The Pack-Rat — The Hoary Marmot — The Wolverine — The Trap- 
pers' Evil Genius — Species of Depredations — Charlie Smith Gets 
Square with an Enemy — A Wolverine Caught Alive. 

FROM our first moment on the summits, we were 
keenly interested in the small mammals and birds which 
dwell with the goat, sheep and grizzly bear. Amid such 
riotous abundance of mountain-side, peak and valley, 
every bit of animal life attracts grateful attention. The 
vastness of the mountains makes one feel so small that 
even a chipmunk or a little chief " hare " is welcomed 
on the basis of brotherhood in the great Family of Living 
Things. The only occurrence on our trip that bordered 
upon calamity concerned Little Mike, the Pika, whose 
story will be set down later on. 

On the summits, small mammalian life is not really 

abundant. I was disappointed by the discovery that 

it is possible to tramp and climb for hours at a stretch 

without sight or sound of a four-footed creature of any 

kind save the goat. This scarcity is doubtless due to two 

causes : the martens and wolverines, and " the long and 

293 



294 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

dreary winter." When we reflect that from October until 
May, almost eight months, the frozen earth is locked fast 
under a thick layer of ice and snow, it needs no philoso- 
pher to suggest that only the toughest and wisest ani- 
mals can survive the great annual test of endurance. 
The bookshelves of our libraries and our homes actually 
yawn for a volume which will tell us, fully and truly, 
how the small creatures of the summits live through the 
awful winters which we, in our comfortable homes, shiver 
to think of. As yet we have only begun to learn how 
a few of the rodents manage to pull through. Those of 
the summits surely must lie for months in a torpid state, 
more dead than alive. 

No doubt I am to blame for not having been more 
diligent in devoting time and labor to investigations of 
the home life of the small rodents with which we came 
in touch. Perhaps I lost some opportunities which could 
have been improved; but really, I think not. During the 
month that we were in the mountains, it was a physical 
impossibility to do more than we did. My total sum of 
hard climbing in hunting for big game, specimen- 
making, meat-drying, sketching and note-taking left me 
no time for the pursuit of small creatures, either with 
digging tools or traps. Whenever I wished to spend half 
an hour in digging out some interesting burrowing crea- 
ture, it always chanced upon a mountain-side or summit 
whereon there were no tools with which to dig. In dig- 
ging out mountain rodents, one needs a good, healthy 
grizzly bear as an assistant. 

From my first day on the slide-rock, I became deeply 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 295 

interested in the remarkable little creature which makes 
its home in those rugged fields. I say " in " those fields, 
because his life upon them is only a trifling incident. It 
is the Little Chief " Hare," Pika, or " Crying Hare," * 
which is not a real hare at all. Its three or four species 
and subspecies occupy a Family box all alone, and for 
mammals it surely is in the top gallery. It looks like a 
timid, little, one-third-grown gray rabbit, with white ear- 
rims ; and it has neither speed nor activity. It lives solely 
by its wits, in an atmosphere reeking of grizzly bears, 
wolverines, martens, weasels, eagles and hawks. It ranges 
from just below timberline up to the line of perpetual 
snow. 

When you stalk silently into the head of a great rock- 
walled basin, over coarse and jagged slide-rock, to the 
spot where the first cupful of water starts down to form a 
creek and take a name, you listen as well as look. As you 
slowly pick your way along over the roughest of all rough 
hunting-grounds, you hear a queer little sound, like the 
" cheep " of a monster cricket. It comes from the depths 
of the slide-rock somewhere, — anywhere, — and it says de- 
liberately but plaintively, " Che-ee-ee-p! Chee-ee-ee-p! 
Cheep! " It is a piercing, high-pitched squeak, like the 
third D above middle C on your piano. If you wish to 
see the owner of the insect-voice, sit down at once, remain 
perfectly quiet, and watch sharply in the direction of the 
sound. It is quite useless to try to locate the voice pre- 
cisely until you see the owner of it. 

In a reasonably small fraction of an hour, you will 

* O-cho-to na prin'ceps. 



296 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

see a small gray form, about seven inches long over all, 
but quite tailless, gently slip into daylight atop of a chunk 
of slide-rock which affords a level resting place. If it 
has a large round ear, with a white rim, it is Pika, the 
haymaker of the slide-rock. In September, and I know 
not how many other months, he hops out to the edge of 
the slide-rock where things grow, cuts a big mouthful of 
weedy plants a foot long, carries them to the mouth of 
his den, and lays them down atop of a flat rock, to cure. 
He brings more, and more, until he has amassed a pile 
three inches high. All the stems are laid the same way, 
neatly and systematically, and they are to lie there until 
they dry sufficiently that when finally taken into the den 
and stowed away they will not mould. If a rock cuts off 
from the hay-pile the rays of the descending sun, the Pika 
will promptly move his hay into the direct sunshine. 

On the day that Mr. Phillips and I first climbed to 
the top of Goat Pass, we found in the stunted timber on 
the steepest part of the mountain-side, three little piles 
of Pika-food, lying across the top of a fallen log, curing 
in the sun. 

While we were measuring, skinning and weighing 
my first mountain goat, a Pika squeaked to us many times. 
At last it came out of the slide-rock about a hundred feet 
below us, and sat on a flat-topped stone viewing the 
world. We watched him with our glasses as long as our 
time would permit, then I went down to take a look at 
his ranch. As I approached, he turned about, and 
vanished. 

On a flat-topped stone, with table area about the size 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 297 

of Country Life, lay the little squeaker's hay pile, freshly 
cut, and in quantity a double handful. It contained no 
grass, — just weed-like plants, with thick stems and large 
leaves. About one-half the bunch consisted of squaw- 
root (Senecio triangularis) , the root of which makes a 
good spring salad that is much in favor with both white 
men and Indians. There was a good showing of the same 
pasque flower (Pulsatilla occidentalism which the moun- 
tain goat loves. Of a plant from the Saxifrage Family, 
there was what chemists call a " trace," and that was all. 

I set to work to follow up the rock burrow of our 
Pika by removing stones ; but the task was not successful. 
Underneath the big chunk of slide-rock on which the 
hay-pile lay drying, I found more fodder of the same 
kind, almost dry enough to store away. It had been 
drawn under the rock so that the elements could not sweep 
it away, and a little later would have been carried farther 
in. But I could not reach the end of the home burrow. 
Cavities ran in several directions, and the more stones I 
pulled out, the more I lost the trail. Finally I gave it 
up, and contented myself with bringing away some speci- 
mens from the collection of the small creature who knows 
not only to make hay when the sun shines, but also where 
it shines. 

From first to last, I think I saw half a dozen Pikas, 
and heard twenty crying from the safe depths of the 
slide-rock. Naturally, they live where the rock has fallen 
in large blocks, furnishing crevices and runways large 
enough for them, but too small for the marten or wolver- 
ine. I think the bears do not trouble them, — which must 



298 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

be for the reason that it is useless to try. No doubt the 
grizzlies fail to get them from the same cause that oper- 
ated against me, — too many rocky ramifications per Pika. 

The only serious accident on our whole trip occurred 
during our last day at Camp Necessity. A Little Chief 
" Hare " was the victim, and Mr. Phillips was chief 
mourner. 

On the last climb which was made by Mr. Phillips 
and Mack Norboe, they expended much time and labor 
in catching a Pika alive, ." for the Zoo." They came into 
camp fairly radiant over a difficult task and a new 
triumph, and at once placed in my hands the black leather 
case of Mr. Phillips's new binocular. A small hole had 
been drilled in the cover of it. 

" There, Director! We've brought you a new kind 
of an animile, to take to New York. We've got Little 
Mike in there! We worked nearly two hours to catch 
him. When Mack grabbed him, he fought like a little 
tiger, and bit Maxie through his glove. After we put 
him in the box he chippered and scolded a long time; 
but he's quieted down now." 

When I saw the smallness of the air-hole that had been 
drilled for the animal through the thick leather, my mind 
was filled with dread; and I hardly could muster up 
courage to open the lid. But no time was lost on that 
account. When I looked in, poor " Little Mike," as Mr. 
Phillips called him, was curled up in the bottom, stone 
dead. 

For several days Mr. Phillips was fairly racked by 
regret and remorse. That small creature's death haunted 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 299 

him nearly to Minneapolis, and he continually wondered 
whether " poor Little Mike " smothered because they did 
not give him enough air. I think the animal was hurt 
internally when captured, or else died of a " broken 
heart," as even bear and deer sometimes do when caught 
and crated. 

The Columbia River Ground-Squirrel, (Citellus 
columbianus) , is the special prey of the grizzly bear. On 
the grass slides and meadows at timberline, we saw at 
least fifty holes that had been dug by bears in quest of 
those animals. In southeastern British Columbia this 
creature is called a " gopher," but that term is a mis- 
nomer. The real gophers are very short and thick-bodied 
villains, with large claws and cheek-pouches, and they 
belong to a family well removed from the Squirrel 
Family. 

The Ground-Squirrel mentioned above looks some- 
what like a common gray squirrel with a half-length tail ; 
but in reality its pelage is marked with fine cross-bars. 
It has the habits of a spermophile, and when alarmed sits 
up at the mouth of its burrow, very erect and post-like. 
Evidently it does not burrow deeply, for none of the 
holes dug by the grizzlies descended more than four feet, 
and the majority of them did not exceed a depth of three 
feet. The question is, as winter approaches do they bur- 
row on down below the frost line, or do they hibernate 
in shallow burrows, in a torpid condition, as does our 
common chipmunk, with six heart-beats to the minute 
and a blood circulation that is scarcely perceptible? 

We saw several examples of the very small and dark- 



3 oo CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

colored Buff-Bellied Chipmunk (Eutamias luteiventris) , 
and killed one which we did not mean to kill. While 
passing over a meadow on the bank of Kaiser Lake, our 
dog flushed the tiny creature, several yards from its bur- 
row. In the ix-up that followed, of chipmunk, dog 
and men, the frightened animal leaped upon Mr. Phil- 
lips's leg, and then upon mine, seeking refuge from the 
dog. We all cried out " Save it! Save it! " and I tried 
to shelter it in my clothes. But it sprang off, and was 
seized by Kaiser. As quickly as we could we rescued it; 
and when I took it in my palm, it turned over, bit my 
finger until it bled, then died happy. As laid out it meas- 
ured only four and three-fourth inches in length of head 
and body, tail three and one-half inches. 

A solitary example of the Ashy-Mantled Ground- 
Squirrel, with the appalling Latin name of Callospermo- 
philus lateralis cinerescens, was the handsomest rodent 
we observed. From the top of the loftiest ridge trodden 
by any one during our trip, whither Charlie Smith and 
I had gone on a " side hunt " from Camp Necessity, we 
looked far down into the maze of mountains and valleys, 
basins and slides that make up Wilson's Creek. Momen- 
tarily we expected to see big game of some kind, and we 
were hunting very carefully, through a scattered growth 
of stunted spruces. At last Kaiser stopped short, ele- 
vated his nose and sniffed significantly to windward. 
Was it sheep, or grizzly bears? All ready to burst with 
readiness, we waited for the foe, Kaiser sniffing crescendo, 
and pointing down the mountain. 

At last we saw the game. It was a big, fat Ashy- 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 301 

Mantled Ground-Squirrel, marked on each side with a 
very broad light-colored band between two equally broad 
black ones. Its sides seemed ready to burst from good 
feeding. As we all stood motionless, he f galloped up 
within five yards of us, saw us, and stoppe to look. For 
fully three minutes he stared at us and we at him, and no 
one moved. Then he made a rush of about six feet, dived 
into his burrow and disappeared. We tried hard to dig 
him out, but the ground was so hard and stony we had to 
give it up. 

The Western Yellow-Haired Porcupine * was suffi- 
ciently numerous that we saw six, all on Avalanche Creek. 
On September n, at the close of our great day with 
goats on Phillips Peak, we overtook two porcupines wad- 
dling along the trail a mile above our new camp. At 
first they refused to turn off and permit us to pass, so we 
leisurely strolled along at their heels for nearly two hun- 
dred yards. They walked as rapidly as they could, but 
their legs were clumsy, and their best speed was slow. 
Finally they arrived opposite a drift of logs, over the 
bed of the creek. Quitting the trail abruptly, they sham- 
bled down the steep bank, scrambled into the thickest 
chaos of logs, and flung themselves down in most absurd 
fashion, under the logs and out of sight. That night we 
were fearful that the spiny wayfarers would take to the 
trail once more, and land in our tents ; but they refrained 
from troubling us. 

I expected that the Oregon Pine Squirrel f would be 
plentiful on those mountains in September, but they were 

* Br-e-tbi'%on ef-i~xaritbm, | Sci-u'rus hudsontus richardsoni, 



3 o2 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

not. I do not recall that we saw more than one, a very 
cheerful and saucy individual who inhabited a big spruce 
at Camp Hornaday. Every morning he would awaken 
very early, perch high in the big spruce nearest to our 
tent, and bark and scold at Kaiser, the horses, the cook, 
and every living thing in sight. His truculent chatter, 
heard daily for many days, now is associated with the 
smell of boiling coffee, and the sizzle of goat steaks in 
the frying-pan. On general principles he objected to our 
presence there, but whenever he saw Kaiser he became 
positively abusive. When very angry his bark was like 
the yapping of a small fox. 

This squirrel, which is very like our eastern red 
squirrel, has a habit which implies genuine reasoning 
powers. It collects mushrooms, — which it does not eat 
when fresh, — puts them in the sun, and dries them until 
they are acceptable. The average eastern hunter does not 
readily believe that the half-dozen or more mushrooms 
which he finds lying in a row a-top of a log, or grouped 
on a rock, or fixed in the forks of young conifers, were 
really gathered and placed there by red squirrels, to cure. 
But it is true. Charlie Smith says that the dried product 
is stored for winter use. 

The Pack-Rat * has already been mentioned. Al- 
though this droll and interesting creature inhabits the 
mountains quite up to timberline, it chanced that we saw 
none after leaving Smith's ranch. Jack Lewis declared 
that when he and Mr. Phillips were benighted on Sheep 
Mountain, and he fell asleep by the smouldering camp- 

* Ne-o-to'ma cin-e're-a drummondi. 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 303 

fire, a Pack-Rat tried to steal his cap from his head. It 
is really strange that the Pack-Rat of the British Colum- 
bia mountains is just as mischievous and ingenious as his 
brethren in the Florida pine woods, nearly 3,000 miles 
away. The northwestern animal secretes a very disagree- 
able odor, which is emitted under excitement, perhaps in 
the line of self-defence. 

The Hoary Marmot, or Whistler * was constantly 
looked for, and expected, but seen only once on the entire 
trip. I saw one run out of sight around a spur-root of a 
mountain, just below timberline, as hurriedly as if he 
knew there were guns about. This creature is merely 
an over-grown, grizzly-gray, mountain woodchuck, who 
is so careful of himself that it is practically impossible 
to procure living specimens at a sum* even remotely corre- 
sponding to their exhibition value. Several men have 
endeavored to catch specimens for us at $15 each, but 
thus far not one has been taken on that basis. 

The Snow-Shoe Rabbit must be counted with the 
small mountain-dwellers of the Order Glires (Rodents), 
but they were so rare that I did not see even one specimen. 
Mr. Phillips saw one, at the big bend of Avalanche 
Creek, on Roth Mountain. Their great rarity is probably 
due to the martens, lynxes and wolverines. As those 
fierce fur-bearers disappear via the trap line, all the 
rodents of the mountains should become more abundant. 

Of all the carnivorous animals (Order Ferce) inhab- 
iting the region which was ours for a month, the Grizzly 
Bear, or Silver-Tip, stands first; and he has already been 

* Arc'to'mys pru-i-no'sus. 



3 o4 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

set forth. The Black Bear inhabits the same territory 
as the Grizzly, but around Phillips Peak it appears to 
be less abundant. The Cinnamon Bear is merely a color 
phase of the Black Bear, but, remarkable to say, it is 
absent from all the territory of the latter east of the great 
plains. The question why this is so, is still unanswered. 

The Puma, or Mountain " Lion," * inhabits the Elk 
River valley, but its tenancy hangs on a very slender 
thread. The most interesting fact that can be mentioned 
regarding it is that we were then at the northern limit 
of a species which has the longest geographical range of 
any large feline animal, — from Phillips Peak to Pata- 
gonia. 

We have fallen into the habit of regarding the Puma 
as a hardy, snow-defying animal, most at home in the 
western Rockies. But this view is entirely wrong. In 
reality Felts concolor is more at home in the tropics of 
northern South America than on the snowy wastes of the 
American Rockies. The Puma is to Colorado as the 
tiger is to Corea. 

We saw no Pumas, nor even puma tracks; but in 1904 
Charles L. Smith caught one near the Sulphur Spring, 
and another was taken shortly after on Pass Creek. 

Although no specimens of the Canada Lynx, or Loup 
Cervier,f were seen during our September on the sum- 
mits, our guides were more fortunate later on. During 
their trapping operations, in November, they caught two 
fine, large specimens. One was taken on Avalanche 
Creek, and very well photographed by Mr. Smith, in the 

* Felis concolor, f Lynx canadensis. 




The Western Yellow- Haired Porcupine 

A dangerous animal in camp at night. 




Canada Lynx, in Trap 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 305 

trap. This animal is distinguished from its nearest rela- 
tive, the " bob-cat " of the North, by the very long black 
pencil on the tip of each ear, its enormous feet and legs, 
and its uniform color of pepper-and-salt gray. Ameri- 
can lynxes of lower degree are more or less spotted, and 
have either very small ear-pencils, or none at all. The 
bay lynx, red lynx or bob-cat — of which there are two 
or three forms, which hopelessly run together — is much 
more common than the fearsome Canadian species. 

The Wolverine, Carcajou, or — as the Indians of Wash- 
ington call it — the Mountain Devil, is quite at home in 
the Elk River mountains, but his shrewdness is so great 
that he is seldom seen outside a trap. Unquestionably, this 
is the most interesting small mammal of the northwest. 
In some places it is called the Skunk-" Bear." 

If you meet a strange trapper and desire to take a 
measure of his moral leanings, ask his opinion of the 
moral character and mental capacity of the Wolverine. 
I have heard trappers solemnly declare that no matter 
how much any one may malign this particular devil, 
its character always is much blacker than it can be 
painted. 

The Wolverine is the largest, the strongest, most 
vicious and most cunning member of the Marten Family. 
In comparison with the size of its body, its teeth are of 
enormous size and power. It is about as large as a fox 
terrier, and ten times as savage as a bad bull-dog. It is 
built on the plan and specifications of a Malay sun-bear, 
and has the same evil eye, wedge-shaped head, splay feet 
and truculent manner. It has long hair, ivory-white 



3 o6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

claws, and a mean-looking tail that looks as if it had been 
cut off half way, and healed up with a wisp end. The 
animal runs with its tail down, but when it stops to look 
back, up goes the tail, skunk-like. In spying out the land, 
a Wolverine often rises high on its hind legs. 

A full-grown Wolverine stands about twelve inches 
high at the shoulder, its head and body are about thirty 
inches, and tail ten inches, exclusive of the hair. 

The general color of this animal is dingy or smoky 
brown, but there is a large light-colored patch on the 
side. On the head the hair is short and close, but on the 
body, neck and tail it is long and flowing. Its eyes are 
black, and so are its legs, but its claws are conspicuously 
white, and very large. 

The Wolverine is a fairly good climber, and game 
hung in a tree is not safe from its destructive jaws. Mr. 
J. W. Tyrrell once outwitted the wolverines of the Barren 
Grounds by erecting a cache on four very high posts, then 
trimming the posts and peeling off all the bark, after 
which he nailed six cod-hooks to each post. The Wolver- 
ines tried very hard to climb up to that cache, but failed. 

The Wolverine is a great traveller; but Mr. J. W. 
Tyrrell says that those he chased on the Barren Grounds 
could not run very fast, and he easily outran them. 
Charles L. Smith says that this animal has the widest 
individual range of any carnivorous animal with which 
he is acquainted, not even excepting the grizzly bear. 
He says that from its home den a Wolverine will travel 
from twenty to thirty miles in each direction. Like all 
the short-legged marten-like animals, it travels by a series 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 307 

of long bounds; or, in other words, it goes at a gallop. 
Its specialty is following up a line of marten traps; and 
on this point my good friends Charlie Smith and the 
Norboe brothers became quite wrought up. This is the 
substance of what they told me: 

A Wolverine will follow the trail of a trapper, visit 
every one of his marten traps (or any others, for that 
matter), spring every trap, steal every bait, and take 
out every marten that has been caught. If the marten 
is not dead, it is killed and torn out of the trap ; and if 
dead and frozen, it is seized by the body and violently 
jerked until the trapped leg is torn off the body, and the 
skin spoiled. The dead body will then be carried 
some distance, a neat hole will be dug straight down into 
the snow for perhaps two feet, and the dead marten is 
cached at the bottom. Then the snow is replaced in the 
hole, tamped down and neatly smoothed over on the sur- 
face, after which the Wolverine defiles the snow over 
the grave, and goes his wicked way. 

By these signs, the trapper knows where to dig for 
his stolen marten. J. R. Norboe once recovered four 
martens out of six that had been stolen by a Wolverine 
on one line of traps. 

In the Elk River Valley, C. L. Smith once had about 
seventy miles of traps, and every mile of his lines was 
gone over by Wolverines. He said, " They caused me 
a great deal of loss, and at last they nearly drove me 
crazy." He once set a trap for a Wolverine, and put be- 
hind it a moose skull bearing some flesh. The Wolverine 
came in the night, started in at a point well away from 



3 o8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

the trap, dug a tunnel through six feet of snow, fetched 
up at the head, — well behind the trap, — and dragged it 
in triumph through his tunnel and away. 

The female Wolverine has four young at a birth, and 
they are born in December. The mothers are more fierce 
and troublesome in February and March than either 
earlier or later, for it is during those months that they 
are required to work hardest in feeding their young. 

Contrary to the statements of the earlier writings upon 
the Wolverine, the three trappers in our party united in 
expressing the opinion that this animal is not a gluttonous 
feeder, and that the amount of food it consumes is pro- 
portionately no greater than that of other members of 
the Marten Family, — marten, fisher, mink, otter, etc. 
The Edwards Brothers, animal showmen, have today a 
captive Wolverine which they have kept for twelve 
years, and its daily ration of meat is only half a pound. 

To a trapper, the Wolverine's crowning injury and 
unpardonable insult is the invasion of his cabin, during 
his absence. Then it is, with the trapper far from home, 
and his all-too-scanty winter's store of flour, bacon, coffee 
and sugar laid bare and at his mercy, that the eternal 
cussedness of Gulo luscus rises to the sublime. He rips 
open every sack and parcel, scatters flour, coffee, sugar 
and grease in one chaotic mass upon the cabin floor, and 
wallows in it, with ghoulish glee. He goes to the bunk, 
and with fiendish persistence tears the blankets to shreds. 
The stove is about the only thing in the cabin that goes 
unscathed. At the last, he defiles to the utmost every 
edible that he cannot carry away, and departs. 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 309 

Charlie Smith tells with much fervor how he got even 
with a Wolverine which made several unsuccessful at- 
tempts to raid his cabin. One morning before starting 
out on his trap-line, he buried a trap directly in front 
of his cabin door, and set the door slightly ajar. Just 
inside the door, he placed some meat. Then, on the roof- 
peak of his cabin, at one end of the structure he rigged 
a balanced pole, like a well-sweep, drew down the small 
end, and under it very carelessly hung a deer's head, in 
a small tree. Directly under the head he set a trap, and 
attached it to the end of the pole. 

He figured out the mental process of the Wolverine 
in this wise: He will suspect the trap in front of the 
door, and avoid it. But he will discover the deer's head, 
and say, "Aha! This fellow has forgotten that I am 
about!" and straightway he will stand up on his hind 
legs and reach for the head, with his front feet against 
the tree. 

The Wolverine came, and saw, and thought, and did 
precisely as the trapper had figured it out that he would; 
and that night when Charlie came home, he found his 
cunning enemy hanging high in the air, " and dead as 
a wedge." 

In the United States, the Wolverine is now so rare 
that it is almost non-existent; but it is not extinct. In 
British Columbia, and northward thereof far into the 
Barren Grounds, it is generally distributed, though it is 
nowhere really numerous. Rarely indeed is one ever seen 
afoot by hunter or trapper, save in the far north. In all 
C. L. Smith's years of trapping, he has seen only three; 



3 io CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

and curiously enough, two of those he saw, and shot at, 
were at the carcass of my first goat. 

After we left the mountains our three guides returned 
to the scene of our late adventures, and went to trapping. 
Smith worked Avalanche Creek, Mack Norboe took his 
old cabin on Bull River, and John Norboe went to Lake 
Monro. I think Charlie Smith had the most fun. 

Within a hundred feet of the spot where he, Phillips 
and I sat on the bank of the creek and ate our luncheon 
on the day we first went bear hunting down to Roth 
Mountain, he caught a big and savage Wolverine, once 
more scoring against his ancient enemy. To make sure 
that a captured animal should not chew himself out of 
his trap, he rigged his favorite engine of destruction — a 
spring-pole, — and to the end of this attached the chain 
of his trap. The Wolverine sprung the trap, the trap 
sprung the pole, and Gulo had nothing to do but to wait 
for Charlie. 

When Charlie came, he found the Wolverine held by 
two toes only, and therefore practically unhurt. This was 
great fortune, and at once the trapper resolved to earn 
an additional increment by sending the animal alive to 
the New York Zoological Society. He had no cage, nor 
was it possible to make one on the spot. Single-handed 
and alone, he tied the jaws of that raging musteline 
demon, tied its legs and feet, also, made the Mountain 
Devil into a package, took it on his back, and carried it 
through a foot of snow, down the creek six miles, to his 
cabin. 

There he made for the beast a rough cage of poles, 




The Wolverine, in Trap 




The Wolverine in New York 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 311 

and later on he and his partners carried cage and contents 
out to the wagon road in Elk valley. The labor and 
hardships they endured in this task are almost indescriba- 
ble. They slept on the snow, without shelter, with the 
temperature at 20 degrees below zero. 

But at last they won out; and the Wolverine at last 
reached New York, alive and well. It was the first speci- 
men of that species to reach the Zoological Park, and was 
treated with the utmost consideration. Two photographs 
of it are reproduced herewith. 



CHAPTER XXII 

SMALL NEIGHBORS OF THE BIG GAME — Continued 

The Pine Marten — The Coyote — Mule Deer — Winter Birds Only — 
Franklin Grouse, or "Fool-Hen" — White-Tailed Ptarmigan — 
Harlequin Duck — Water Ouzel — Eagles and Hawks — Clark's Nut- 
cracker, Canada Jay and Magpie. 

The Pine Marten * is now the most important and 
valuable fur-bearing animal of British Columbia. Fine, 
dark pelts are worth as high as thirty dollars each; but 
the lighter ones run as low as three dollars. The beaver 
and otter are done, at least in southeastern British Colum- 
bia, but of Martens there are yet a goodly number. Dur- 
ing their October and November trapping (1905) in the 
mountains between the Elk and Bull Rivers, our three 
guides caught fifty-three Marten, — a very fine catch for 
so short a period. 

The Marten is an animal of about the size of a half- 
grown red fox, and looks like one. In head and body it 
is seventeen inches long, and its tail is seven inches. Ordi- 
narily its body is brownish-yellow, but the legs are two 
or three shades darker. It has three kinds of hair. From 
the standard color, the coat of this animal shades darker 
until it becomes almost black. 

The Marten is in every sense a predatory animal, and 

* Mustela americana. 
31a 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 313 

a very savage one, but it is not a double-dyed villain, 
brimful of malice and mischief, like the wolverine. In 
the wilds it is a great hunter, but it seldom turns poacher 
and poultry-killer. It hunts in the daytime, and cannot 
properly be called a nocturnal animal. It is an expert 
tree-climber, and it is said that Martens catch red 
squirrels out of their own tree-tops. Charlie Smith 
has shot five or six Martens out of trees, on Bull River. 
In descending a tree, a Marten goes head first, like a 
squirrel. 

We found Marten signs quite up to timberline, and 
we know that in the autumn they eat mice, for we saw 
proof of it. Of course they feed upon small mammals 
and birds of every kind they can catch. In summer they 
eat berries of several kinds. In winter they live chiefly 
by catching mice under logs, where the snow does not 
drift in and pack tightly. By means of these open places 
under logs, and their runways under the snow, the mice 
move about quite freely, and thus serve the Marten with 
many a warm luncheon, of small dimensions. When 
pressed for food the Marten digs down beside a fallen 
log until he reaches the open space under it, and there 
he travels to and fro, practically under the snow, for 
considerable distances. 

Even where they are abundant, Marten are rarely 
seen until they are trapped. Once however, on Bull 
River, after a fire in green timber, eight martens were 
seen in one day, just below the fire line. This animal is 
a good traveller, and runs rapidly, by long bounds which 
cover from three to six feet at a leap. 



3 14 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

In temper the Marten is very savage, and also finely 
courageous. When caught, it fiercely glares upon the 
trapper, and growls its hatred. So strong is its appetite, 
and so dull its sense of pain, that even with one foot 
crushed in a steel trap, it will accept food and make a 
hearty meal, growling angrily all the while. When 
caught in a steel trap it does not lie down and give up, 
but snarls and fights to the end. 

One Marten was seen on our trip, near the spot where 
the cycloramic bear-hunt occurred. Mr. Phillips saw it 
start to run along a fallen log, and instinctively took aim 
at it, when Mack Norboe cried out in great alarm, 

" Hold on, Mr. Phillips! Don't shoot! Don't shoot! 
That pelt will be worth twenty dollars next month!" 

That Marten went its way unharmed — until the trap- 
ping season. 

The absence of wolves was very noticeable. We saw 
not one Gray Wolf (Cams nubilis), and the only Coyotes 
(Canis latrans) encountered were the two young ani- 
mals which Mr. Phillips found on the Sulphur Spring 
meadow, one of which he killed. But of course wolves 
are more in evidence later in the year. 

Mr. Charles L. Smith related a very curious fact, 
bearing upon the mental capacity of the Coyote. He 
said that already the Coyotes of the Elk Valley have so 
well learned the deadly character of traps and poison 
that now it is almost impossible to kill a wolf with either. 
So very wise and suspicious are the Coyotes now that a 
hunter may hang up a dressed carcass of a deer, and leave 
it in the woods, actually surrounded by hungry wolves, — 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 315 

and they will walk around it for days without daring to 
eat a mouthful. 

The Mule Deer is yet found in southeastern British 
Columbia, but it is no longer numerous. Its delicious 
venison has brought upon it the rifles of all hunters and 
trappers, and we found it quite as scarce as mountain 
sheep. I think our party saw a total of twelve head; but 
we killed only one. In October and November the snows 
drive the deer down from the mountains into the valleys 
of such streams as the Elk River, where the hunters find 
them rather easy prey. 

We saw no White-Tailed Deer; but there are in that 
corner of British Columbia a few representatives of that 
species. 

Farther west, in the lower valley of the Fraser River, 
the Columbian Black-Tailed Deer * is abundant, but I 
believe none are found in the Fernie district. 

In 1 901 a Moose was killed in the Elk Valley, near 
the Sulphur Spring, by Mr. Charles L. Smith, but since 
that time no other Moose have visited that region. 

Of bird life we saw much less than I expected, for I 
had thought that the late-ripening berries of the sum- 
mits would attract and hold a goodly number of the more 
venturesome birds. But the berries had no effect what- 
ever upon bird life, and throughout the entire trip, I did 
not see even one migratory bird which was lingering to 
feed upon them. Even as early as September 1, nearly 
all the migratory birds had vanished. My bird notes 

* O-do-coil'e-us columbianus. 



3 i6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

relate only to certain birds which we saw, and positively 
identified. We saw half a dozen species which we could 
not identify. 

The Franklin Grouse, or " Fool-Hen " * is the first 
game bird which greets the hunter as he enters the moun- 
tains, and when he departs it is the last one to speed the 
parting guest. As already recorded, we flushed about 
twenty of these birds in the heavy jack pine forest of Elk 
Valley, just below the Sulphur Spring. Later on we 
found them elsewhere, up to an elevation of about 5,000 
feet; but above that we saw no more of them. It is a bird 
of the valleys and heavy timber, rather than of the moun- 
tain-sides. 

The Sooty Grouse,f Blue Grouse or Pine Hen lives 
higher up, but it is so rare we met with only two flocks. 
At an elevation of about six thousand feet Charles L. 
Smith killed a fine specimen by throwing a stone at it, 
as it sat upon one of the lower branches of a tree. This 
bird is a subspecies of the well-known Dusky Grouse of 
the southern two-thirds of the United States west of the 
great plains. In the Shoshone Mountains I found it 
living close beside the mountain sheep, and almost fear- 
less in the presence of man. 

Above the timberline, the White-Tailed Ptarmigan J 
was delightfully common. On the evening of September 
6, about an hour after the three goats ran past our camp- 
fire on Goat Pass, four of these birds flew into our camp, 
and created another diversion. Mr. Phillips shot one for 
close examination, and as a small contribution to the 

* Ca-nach'i-tes franklini. f Den-drag' a-fus ob-scv'rus, J l,a-go'f>us leu-cu'rus. 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 317 

frying-pan. Later on we found two flocks on the bald, 
rocky summit of Bird Mountain, a most weird place in 
which to find members of the Grouse Family. 

The Ptarmigan is a brave bird, or it would not choose 
as its home the rugged rocks and storm-beaten slopes 
above timberline. Although its flesh is excellent, and on 
the mountain-tops a great delicacy, we were not at all 
keen in seeking it. We did not need more than a sample 
of Ptarmigan, and that was all we took. They were such 
queer little creatures, and so companionable on the sum- 
mits, we had not the heart to pursue them for food. 

It is natural for people to be specially interested in 
birds and mammals which live under conditions fraught 
with great danger, or with difficulty to the party of the 
first part. Take the Harlequin Duck, for example, — a 
bird so fantastically painted by Nature, with white bars 
and stripes and splashes on a bluish background, that the 
finished effect suggests the painted markings of a clown. 

This bird loves rough water, and in the Elk River and 
its tributaries you will find it from early spring until the 
end of September. It breeds in that region. If you see 
it at all, it will be in the roughest water, perhaps standing 
upon a stone in the centre of a roaring rapid, or bobbing 
like a cork on the boiling flood at the foot of some cascade. 
Standing on a dry shelf in a museum, or lying as a dry 
skin in the black obscurity of a smelly drawer, the Harle- 
quin Duck is not seen at its best. But place it in its natural 
haunts, — a roaring mountain stream, in a setting of rocks, 
enamelled with evergreen timber, — as shown in Mr. 
Phillips's beautiful photograph, and this is a grand bird. 



3 i8 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Even the best diamond needs a proper setting in order 
to show off at its best. 

The Water Ouzel, — in habits the strangest of all 
passerine birds, — is also a bird of the mountain torrents. 
This is the little creature which looks like a short-tailed 
catbird, or a big gray wren, which always nests beside a 
foaming mountain torrent, and occasionally amuses itself 
by diving into an icy cold pool, and walking upon the 
bottoml I have seen them fly off the edge of a rush- 
ing stream, in November, and plunge into the icy waves, 
for fun, — just as a feverish city sparrow bathes in a foun- 
tain-basin in mid-August. 

We found a Water Ouzel's nest on Avalanche 
Creek. It was a mile above Camp Necessity, and the 
elevation was about 6,000 feet. The nest was situated 
in a horizontal crevice, a foot wide, at the base of a 
smooth wall of rock, and only eighteen inches above 
the turbulent waters of the stream. To me it seemed 
strange that a summer freshet had not swept away the 
little home. Mr. Phillips endeavored to photograph the 
nest, but the effort was not successful. 

The nest was of very simple construction. It consisted 
merely of a broken wreath of moss, lying upon the bare 
rock, and backed up against the inner wall of the crevice. 
With the Carnegie Museum in his mind, Mr. Phillips 
removed it; and lo! there was nothing but a meaningless 
handful of dried moss. 

Under a log in a snow-slide I saw one Wren, which 
I think was a Western Winter Wren.* 

* An-or-thu'ra hietnalts pacificus. 




The Haunt of the Harlequin Duck 




The Water Ouzel 

The best result of many efforts in photographing this remarkable bird. 



THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 319 

A few Golden Eagles were seen on the summits, al- 
ways hunting around the peaks, or the tops of the ridges. 
The mountain goat kids were then too large to be carried 
off by eagles, and it is probable that the latter were seek- 
ing ptarmigan, pikas, ground-squirrels and hoary mar- 
mots. But Eagles were by no means numerous, and I 
think that altogether we saw only eight or ten. 

Hawks were more numerous. A brown-gray species, 
which I failed to identify, was frequently observed flying 
low along the mountain-sides, hunting with the utmost 
diligence for the small creatures of the slopes. At times 
these birds flew slowly along, not more than three feet 
above the earth, their keen eyes searching sharply for 
" gopher " and chipmunk. 

No British Columbia mountain is complete without 
Clark's Nutcracker,* and the Canada Jay; f and a river 
valley without a Magpie J is desolate. It is disappointing 
to find a hunter's cabin with no Magpies about it, and a 
mountain camp without the Canada Jay is out of joint. 
In their own proper places we saw all three of these birds. 
First came the Magpie, the most beautiful and showy 
of the trio, which was plentiful around our camp at Sul- 
phur Springs, and around Wild-Cat Charlie's cabin. To 
my mind, this is the most beautiful and picturesque of 
all the American members of the Crow Family, and 
throughout most portions of its range it should be perma- 

* Nu-ci-fra f ga columbiana; commonly called "Clark's Crow." 
f Per-i-so're-us canadensis; also called "Whiskey-Jack" and "Moose 
Bird." 

% Pi' 'ca pica hudsonia. 



3 2o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

nently protected by law. There are times, however, when 
this bird becomes a nuisance to domestic animals. 

In the higher altitudes, the Nutcracker and Canada 
Jay are the big-game hunter's most intimate feathered 
friends. In the wildest basins and on the steepest moun- 
tain-sides, you will see them hang upon the heaven-point- 
ing tips of the last dead pines and spruces, and hear their 
weird, squawking cries. It is fitting that the birds of the 
summits should be widely different from those of the 
plains, and that the sound of falling slide-rock, and the 
whistle of the wind through the pine-tops should forever 
be associated in the hunter's mind with the queer " Kee- 
wock " of Clark's Nutcracker. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

DOWN AVALANCHE CREEK, AND OUT 

Cutting our Way Out — A Side Trip to High Summits — Discovery of 
Lake Josephine — A Camp for Three — A Lofty Hunting Ground — 
My Luck Against the Storm-Clouds — A Body-Racking Descent — 
The Struggle for a Trail Out — Mr. Phillips and I Go Out on 
Foot — The Jack Pine, Down and Up — Running Logs Over Down 
Timber — Out at Last. 

Below Camp Necessity, the valley of Avalanche 
Creek was in a frightful state. It was full of " down 
timber," through which no trail ever had been cut. Our 
guides knew that to cut our way out to Elk River Valley 
would be a serious undertaking, but it was voted less 
laborious and more expeditious than to retrace our route, 
and swing back twenty-five miles northward. To retrace 
our steps would mean a total loss in distance of at least 
fifty miles, half of it over very bad trails, with much 
climbing; so the guides and the cook voted to chop out 
a trail down stream in order to save the horses. 

At the beginning it seemed like a three days' task, and 
it afforded an interval that Charlie Smith and I made 
haste to spend in a hunt up to the summits south of our 
camp. He said, 

" There is some mighty fine country up there. I have 

seen it from the south, but I don't believe any white 

man ever has been in it, — at least not in my time. There 

321 



322 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

ought to be grizzly bear and sheep up there, and mule 
deer, too! " 

We took the 4x7 silk tent, an axe, a small tin pail, a 
small piece of bacon, a little chocolate, sugar, bread and 
a can of tongue; our rifles, a small camera, one blanket, 
and that was all. Knowing that it would be a hard climb 
up, and one equally difficult coming down, we left behind 
every ounce that could be spared. Charlie even declined 
to take a blanket, but with needle and thread I quickly 
converted my best blanket into a first-rate sleeping-bag, 
and took it on my back. 

We went up the bed of a creek that came plunging 
down into Avalanche Valley, just below our camp ; and 
of all the down timber — ! The narrow valley was filled 
with it; and being unable to go under it, or through it, we 
had to go over it, by walking the logs as they lay. It 
was both difficult and dangerous. I had one hand free, 
but how Charlie could risk it with a heavy pack on his 
back, a sharp axe in one hand, and a rifle in the other, 
was a mystery. We not only had to run the logs, but it 
was necessary to climb at the same time; and the combina- 
tion was far from easy. 

At last we climbed above the down timber, and en- 
tered upon slide- rock; and over that we climbed on up 
through a gloomy notch in the rocks. Beyond that lay a 
basin filled with green timber, which Charlie scrutinized. 

" By the amount of water coming out of that basin," 
said he, " I think there must be a lake in there, some- 
where." 

In the Adirondacks, and other places wherein water 



DOWN AVALANCHE CREEK, AND OUT 323 



is plentiful and cheap, we speak of any small body of it 
as a " pond " ; but in deserts and on mountain summits, 
where a body of water of any size is something to be 
petted and made much of, people call it a " lake." And 
very properly, too; for no meek and lowly " pond " is a 
proper associate for Nature's grandest works. One of 
the most beautiful lakes in the Elk River country is Lake 
Monro, a few miles north of Goat Pass — named in honor 
of Mr. G. N. Monro, of Pittsburg, who has hunted big 
game in this region. 

Charlie was right. We found a lovely sheet of water, 
walled in by a dense green stockade of spruces and bal- 
sams. Toward the south and west, a high cliff of rock 
loomed up, and southeastward were several immense 
ridges with broadly-rounded tops. 

The lake is a gem of green and blue, lying in the lap 
of Nature. For a few yards outward from the shore 
the shallow water showed the clear green of an emerald, 
but suddenly it plunged into unknown depths and be- 
came " deeply, darkly, beautifully blue." 

Near the outlet of the 
lake, we found big tracks 
coming up from the blue 
water, and at the head of it 
we found where the maker 
of those tracks had gone in. 
About two weeks previous 
to our visit a large bull elk 
had entered the southern end of the lake, and swam the 
entire length of it. Having read this bit of history, I 






3 24 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

formally christened that body of water, in honor of my 
wife, and filed her claim on the side of a fine young 
balsam that stood on the southern shore. 

Then it began to rain, and we made haste to pitch 
our tent, cut spruce boughs for our bed, and collect a 
huge pile of wood for the camp-fire; for it was nearly 
night. 

People may paint and photograph camps and camp- 
fires, until doomsday; but after all they are mostly tame 
and spiritless. One might as well try to paint the 
perfume of orange blossoms, or the charm of a lovely 
woman's manner, for all are equally futile. But those 
who have camped in the lap of Nature, far from the 
haunts of man, far beyond the last trail and the ultimate 
tin can, can realize without any pictures the composite 
sensations of awe, of triumph, and of rare satisfaction 
which filled our souls as we lit our camp-fire, and 
settled down for the night. 

Our tent was small, even for two men; but in view 
of the rain that steadily pattered down, and dog Kaiser 
shivering as he lay tightly coiled on the dry needles at 
the foot of our sheltering spruce, we cordially invited 
him to come into the tent, for the night. Kaiser always 
was persona grata, and it was no hardship to share with 
him our bed, as well as our board. 

When not exercising, it was stinging cold ; and Char- 
lie was blanketless. To remedy that, he left the front 
end of the tent wide open, and built across it bows, and 
only six feet away, a perfectly gorgeous camp-fire six 
feet long by three feet high. The heat of this radiated 




J ^ 



£ ' 6 



h 



DOWN AVALANCHE CREEK, AND OUT 325 

into the tent, and warmed it very well, save to a man 
lying down ; who naturally lay under the warm air, rather 
than within it. 

Charlie's rest was continually broken by the necessity 
of replenishing the fire ; and when lying down, he should 
have had a good blanket. The first night, I was new to 
the situation, and watched to see how my comrade would 
get on with no blanket. The second night, I knew all 
about it; and after a watch below I made Charlie get 
into my one-blanket sleeping-bag, get warm and go to 
sleep, while I took the watch on deck. Every half hour 
I had to get out and mend the fire; and then Kaiser 
would quickly jump my claim, and settle down in the 
warmest spot of my bed. When I dislodged him, and 
settled down for another shivery half-hour, he would 
insinuate himself into my arms, and I found the warmth 
of his body grateful and comforting. 

True to the general keynote, we found those moun- 
tains quite different from every other spot we had visited. 
The big, rocky peak that formed a quarter-circle around 
the western side of the basin of Lake Josephine seemed 
to be a sort of culminating point. From it and its spur- 
like ridges, great basins were scooped out in every direc- 
tion, and creeks innumerable headed and ran down north, 
east and south. From the bald top of a vast ridge south- 
east of the lake, we seemed to overlook the world. 

The crest of Cyclorama Ridge, on which Mr. Phil- 
lips killed his three rams, was so much below us that 
we looked down upon it, and saw it clean and bare, while 
we were in snow. Southward, fully a thousand feet be- 



3 26 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

low us, a big valley of many slides and much green tim- 
ber ran down, due south. Charlie said it was Wilson's 
Creek, whereon Mr. Phillips had killed several grizzly 
bears. 

It was a glorious country for big game; but just at 
that moment, the sheep and deer and grizzlies happened 
to be elsewhere. We found goats on the cliffs, and, as 
described fully elsewhere, saw a big billy promenade 
across the face of that awful precipice as coolly as if he 
were cropping Pulsatilla on a sky pasture. On the sum- 
mit of the highest point trodden by us, we met an ashy- 
mantled ground-squirrel. East of our camp, a whole 
mountain-side was covered with huckleberry bushes 
hanging full of ripe berries, on which we fed sumptu- 
ously more than once. 

The night before we were to return to Camp Neces- 
sity, it began to rain and snow, and after studying the 
weather Charlie said, very seriously, 

" We'll find ourselves in a foot of snow at daylight 
to-morrow! " 

" Charlie," I said, " my luck won't have it that way! 
When I go hunting, bad weather doesn't strike until after 
I get in." 

" Well, this time I'll back the clouds against yer 
luck," said Charlie. 

We spent a very anxious night, but at daylight we had 
only the same two inches of snow that we had at sunset. 
We ate our last mouthfuls of grub, spent our last films 
in trying to photograph Lake Josephine, and then set 
out — or I should say set down — for Camp Necessity. 



DOWN AVALANCHE CREEK, AND OUT 327 

The valley route was impossible, because of the wet snow 
on the logs, so we went down the crest of the ridge west 
of our little creek. 

It is easy to over-estimate the height that one climbs, 
and magnify the difficulties of an ascent; but, as truly as 
I live, that descent seems like one of the most trying 
experiences that I ever went through in hunting. We 
went down at a frightfully steep pitch, through green 
timber and dead timber, clinging like frightened 
monkeys to every branch, and bush, and twig that we 
could grasp, to keep from pitching headlong. There 
were ten thousand fallen trees to climb over, — but we 
didn't climb over quite all of them. Every fallen tree 
was wet, every root and stone was slippery. I got three 
hard falls on soft earth, and each time thankfully went 
forward to the next. It seemed to me that we went down 
about five thousand feet, — at least twice as much as we 
climbed up in going to Lake Josephine, — but I know that 
the distance was nothing like that. To my last day, it 
will be to me a profound mystery how we climbed up so 
easily, and scrambled down so far, and so hard. During 
the lower third of the descent, the tangle of down timber 
on that awfully steep mountain-side was most trying. 
It made one think of tangled hair. 

Soaking wet, we reached Camp Necessity about noon, 
and were glad to get into dry clothing. The cutting 
of the trail had been steadily going forward, but instead 
of being nearly at an end, three miles were yet unopened, 
and the work was slow and toilsome. To save Charlie 
Smith from heavy axe-work, which he was then in no 



328 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

physical condition to perform, Huddleston, our cook, 
pluckily volunteered to change work with Smith; and 
he flew at the chopping of tough jack pines as if he 
liked it. 

On the following day, Mr. Phillips and I packed 
up all our skins and heads, and made them ready for the 
trail. The last photographs of the camp were taken. 
When the Norboes and Huddleston dragged wearily into 
camp, at night, they sadly confessed that the trail-cutting 
was far from being finished. At least two days' work 
remained, possibly three. Being already behind my 
schedule time, and urgently anxious to get in touch with 
a telegraph wire, I proposed to Mr. Phillips that we 
break through on foot, and walk to Michel by the end 
of the following day. It was only twenty-five miles, or 
thereabouts, but getting down and out of Avalanche 
Valley made it equal to forty on a fair trail. 

At daylight on the morning of September 29, John 
and I took our rifles and one camera, and set out. The 
only incident of the promenade worth mentioning is the 
down-timber feature. 

Thus far I have said little about " log-running " in 
getting over bad down timber. What we did pre- 
viously in that line was like child's play in comparison 
with that forenoon's record. To be appreciated, down 
timber must be experienced; for seeing is not all of 
believing. 

Fallen jack pines are the curse of British Columbia. 
They hinder all enterprises, and help none. They never 
decay, and the longer they lie the tougher they are. 



DOWN AVALANCHE CREEK, AND OUT 329 

They are too small to convert into lumber, and too hard 
to chop into cordwood. They are too big for fishing 
rods, and too small for masts. After a time, a jack pine 
stem becomes practically indestructible. To burn one 
off the face of Nature requires more good kindling than 
the burnee would make, if sawn and split. A jack pine 
stem is so tough that you cannot break a section of the 
tip as large as a walking stick. 

If you try to break off a tip, to use for some good 
and lawful purpose, it will lure you on to strive until 
you are exhausted, and then when you say something 
bad and let it go, it will fly back and hit you in the eye. 

When the wind begins to blow hard, dead jack pines 
that are standing are more dangerous than grizzly bears. 
Then the boldest hunter will quit the trail, and break 
for open ground. Even when the wind is not blowing, 
it is dangerous to walk through jack pines that are dead 
standing, for they have a sneaking way of silently letting 
go at the roots, and falling across anything or anybody 
that can be hurt. A dead jack pine is a woody degen- 
erate, neither beautiful nor useful, and forever menacing 
the peace of the world until some well-directed fire re- 
duces it to its lowest terms. 

The lower reaches of Avalanche Valley are to-day 
suffering from a fearful attack of jack pines. Once the 
mountains on both slopes were covered with that mis- 
begotten tree; but about ten years ago they were swept 
by fire. The trees were killed, but not burned. They 
fell down-hill, so that travel on the mountain-side is 
everywhere a practical impossibility. In the bottom of 



330 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

the valley they fell across each other in every direction, 
and piled up higher and higher, until the uncut resid- 
uum is absolutely impassable for horse, deer, or any 
large hoofed animal except man. There are places 
where the criss-crossed logs are only four feet high, but 
there are others where they are ten, fifteen, or twenty. 

To get a horse through, a course must be so cut out 
that the highest uncut log is low enough that a horse can 
step over it; and such a trail winds in the wildest and 
dizziest zig-zags ever laid out by man. A worm fence, 
or a streak of chain lightning, is an air-line in compar- 
ison with it. In advancing one mile you travel three 
or four. 

The foot-slogger who is unhampered by a pack-train 
can get over the infernal tangle by walking on the top- 
most logs. He goes first in one direction and then in 
another, as the good ones, — no, I mean the least bad 
ones, — happen to lie. The stems are bare of bark, and 
smooth as a floor, but plentifully provided with tough, 
mean limbs to catch in your clothes and otherwise throw 
you down. There is hardly a square yard below that is 
not criss-crossed by logs, and if you lose your balance 
and fall, you plunge down upon an assortment of tree 
trunks and limbs as hard as iron, and lying all sorts of 
ways about. 

When your foot-log is near the ground, you jog along 
quite joyously, but at six feet or more above mother 
earth, a fall means broken bones. Broken bones in the 
mountains spell calamity, to yourself and to your whole 
party. Doctors are impossible, and to carry a man out 




The Tangle of "Dead" and "Down" Timber, Avalanche Creek 




Log-Running over "Down" Timber 

A hard fall means broken bones. 



DOWN AVALANCHE CREEK, AND OUT 331 

over those mountain trails is a task that the strongest 
party manager may well shrink from. 

In getting out of Avalanche Valley, we had no choice 
but to walk logs for several hours and several miles. 
Without the hob nails in our shoes, it would have been 
quite impossible. It would have been much easier and 
safer without our rifles, but for a hunter to abandon his 
rifle means the last extremity. While the dew was on 
the logs, we gave our undivided attention to the struggle 
to get on and yet keep from falling. As the morning 
drew on, and the dew dried up, we became more confi- 
dent, and went faster. It was very funny, but we planted 
our feet just as a mountain goat does when walking a 
ledge, — very firmly and stiffly at each step, to get a sure 
foothold on the smooth wood. 

Although I had lost eleven pounds since entering 
the mountains, my weight was still one hundred and 
seventy-four, and I dreaded the disgrace of broken bones 
on the last day. Many a time as we crossed logs that were 
fully ten feet from the ground, it seemed impossible that 
we should be permitted to get out without a break. But 
we did. We got so much in practice that we pegged 
along not only rapidly but recklessly, and took chances 
that were better not taken twice. Toward the end of the 
log-running, Mr. Phillips had a bad fall, and came very 
near Calamity. He did not fall far, but his foot was 
caught and held so firmly that he was glad to hang on and 
without moving wait for me to come up and help him to 
release his foot and rise. At first we both thought that 
his ankle was " gone." 



332 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

A little later I grew careless, and fell a short fall 
with great violence, but fortunately landed full length 
upon some small stems. I thought my rifle stock was 
smashed to bits, but it came up unbroken. 

At last, however, we got out of the down timber, out 
of the five-mile forest of young jack pines that lies below 
it, and down into the valley of Elk River. 

All's well that ends well. 



CHAPTER XXIV, 

CAPTIVE MOUNTAIN GOATS 

Record of Captive Goats Exhibited — Perilous Capture by Smith and 
Norboe — An Easy Capture — A Game Warden in Trouble — First 
Specimens for New York — Others from Fort Steele — Shipping 
Animals by Express — The Author Becomes Travelling Companion 
for Five Goat Kids — Traits in Captivity — A Glance Backward. 

Up to this date, the entire history of the mountain 
goat in captivity is very brief. Although quite a num- 
ber have been caught in various places, only a very 
few have lived long enough to change hands and be 
seen of men. 

The first living mountain goat ever captured or pho- 
tographed (s.f.a.k.) was a big male captured near Deer 
Lodge, Montana, about 1880, and taken alive to that 
town. For sixteen years I have been in possession of a 
dim photograph of that animal, taken as he stood with 
two ropes around his neck. " Deer Lodge Billy " lived 
only a short time. His alleged weight of 480 pounds is 
quite beyond belief. 

In 1899 two goats were purchased of Dick Rock by 

Charles W. Dimick, and exhibited at the Sportsmen's 

Show, in Boston. They lived on a farm in New England 

for about one year longer, then died of lung troubles. 

In 1902 the Philadelphia Zoological Society came 

333 



334 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

into possession of two fine young goats, which lived in 
the Gardens of that Society for two years, and then sud- 
denly passed away. 

In 1 901, the Zoological Society of London purchased 
•a typical full-grown male goat which had been captured 
in 1898 in the Fort Steele District of southeastern 
British Columbia, and reared to maturity in its home 
country. By its owner it was personally conducted to 
London, and on ariving there it elected to live. At this 
date (1906) it is believed to be yet alive; and I may add 
that it is living proof in support of the author's theory 
that the only perfect way to secure American mountain 
sheep and goats that can survive on the Atlantic coast 
is by having young animals reared to maturity in their 
home country. 

In the spring of 1904, seven goat kids were captured 
near Banff for the New York Zoological Society, and 
most carefully cared for, but all died shortly after they 
reached Banff. During that same season, however, four 
other goats were caught for us, and also a mountain 
sheep lamb, all of which survived. The mountain sheep 
lamb, and two of the goat kids, were caught by Charles 
L. Smith and R. M. Norboe. As we climbed up Goat 
Creek into the mountains, we passed the very spot where 
one of the kids was taken, and Mr. Smith described to 
me the manner of it. It was, I think, the most hazardous 
and recklessly daring feat in mountaineering ever per- 
formed by any one known to me, and I shudder every 
time I think of it. 

On that particular occasion, R. M. Norboe accom- 




Drawn by Charles B. Hudson. 



Risking his Life for a Kid 



CAPTIVE MOUNTAIN GOATS 335 

panied Smith into the mountains, for the purpose of cap- 
turing kids. They found a female goat, with a kid only 
a few days old, near the top of a lofty and very precip- 
itous peak on the north side of Goat Creek. They 
climbed the mountain, scaled the peak to its summit, 
and finally succeeded in driving the mother goat and 
her kid upon a narrow ledge which terminated against 
an unscalable wall. 

Rope in hand, Charlie Smith followed the mother 
goat and her young along their narrow shelf of rock al- 
most to the end of the cul-de-sac. But there the pursuit 
ended. From that point onward the rock wall overhung 
so much that ten feet away from the goats a human being 
could go no farther. Below was a perpendicular drop 
of hundreds of feet, but the rocks above sloped suffi- 
ciently that Norboe was able to come within about ten 
feet of his partner. 

" Mack," said Smith, " go and cut a pole about ten 
feet long, strong enough to swing this kid, give it to me, 
and I'll soon have him." 

While his partner went to cut the pole, Smith sat 
down on the ledge, with his feet hanging over eternity, 
and waited. When the pole arrived, and had been 
passed down to him, he bent his lariat upon the end, and 
left a suitable noose hanging free. When all was ready, 
he bade Norboe climb down as near to him as possible, 
and when the word was given he reached forward, 
noosed the kid around its neck, swung it out over the 
abyss and up to Norboe, who took it, and carried it to 
a place of safety. Then Smith gingerly arose, edged 



33 6 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

his way back along the eighteen-inch shelf, and in safety 
reached the rocks above. 

As we looked up at the frightfully dangerous spot 
whereon Smith risked his life for a mountain goat kid 
three days old, the thought came back to me, for about 
the one-hundredth time, " What a pity that visitors to 
zoological parks and gardens cannot know all the life 
stories of the animals ! " 

The second goat kid captured for us by Mr. Smith 
was obtained more easily. While hunting bear in May, 
1904, near the head of Goat Creek, Mr. Phillips and 
Guide Smith saw a mother goat and a very young kid. 
They were lingering near the mouth of a cave, high up 
in the rocks, quite as if the cave had been the birthplace 
of the kid. On the following morning, Mr. Phillips 
encouraged Smith to make a trip to the cave, and if pos- 
sible capture the kid. Mr. Smith eagerly accepted the 
opportunity, hastened to the spot, and found both the 
mother goat and her young very near the ledge they had 
occupied on the previous day. As the hunter ap- 
proached, the mother goat retreated with her kid into 
the cave. Smith followed, easily drove out the nanny 
and captured the kid. 

Carrying the little creature tenderly in his arms, 
Charlie finally sat down to rest in the heavy green tim- 
ber a mile above camp, and there Mr. Phillips found him 
and took his picture, as shown herewith. 

A little later, a mountain sheep lamb was captured, 
and it and the two goat kids were safely settled for a 
period of several months at Mr. Smith's comfortable 



CAPTIVE MOUNTAIN GOATS 337 

ranch on the bank of Elk River. The three animals 
were kept in a small yard made of poultry netting, and 
watched and tended by Mr. Smith's father. During the 
entire summer, those animals were not out of the father's 
sight in daylight for more than an hour at a time, and 
as a result, they lived and throve. 

At first their food consisted of condensed cream, 
properly diluted with water; and after that they were 
fed on cow's milk, given in small quantities, but fre- 
quently. Very soon they began to eat grass, cabbage 
and dry bread, and after that, crushed oats. As they 
grew older, hay became acceptable to them, and soon 
formed, with cabbage, their principal diet. 

During the summer Mr. Smith had various advent- 
ures with his strange little beasts, and one incident 
which he described in a letter to his friend Mr. J. E. 
Roth, of Pittsburg, presently found its way into print. 
It appeared in Shields' Magazine under the caption 

A GAME WARDEN IN TROUBLE 

"I had some excitement lately in the exercise of my duties as game 
warden. Mother started in to violate our good game laws. Father 
had turned the pet sheep and goats out for exercise, and, as the day was 
fine, Mother stepped out and left the hall door open. The sheep, being 
near at hand, thought it a good time to explore new territory, so went in 
at the door and up the stairs on the run. Mother heard the racket, and, 
arming herself with a broom, did wilfully, and, disregarding the game 
laws, pursue the said sheep. 

"After an elaborate stalk, she found it in my room, standing in the 
middle of my bed, and she made a charge. The sheep dashed around 
the room, over books and flowerpots, and down the stairs, four steps 
at a time. The dining-room door was open, and the table was set for 



338 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

dinner. As it was the highest bit of scenery in sight the sheep took 
refuge in the middle of it, and cleared a space on which to make a final 
stand. Mother, being the wife and mother of a hunter, and being 
descended from a long line of that ilk, did, regardless of the law, still 
pursue; but, before she could make her way down stairs, the doughty 
big-horn had cleared the table of every dish, with contents, and they lay 
scattered around as if the place had been struck by a Kansas cyclone. 

"The mater made a charge on Ovis canadensis, but failed to bring 
him down. She then called in the pater, and, after some persuasion, 
the irate big-horn was taken away. 

"About that time I arrived on the scene, and with dignity proceeded 
to read Mother the clause in the game laws which says: 'You shall not 
pursue, or cause to be pursued, etc., etc.,' upon which she informed 
me that I was the one who had caused the sheep to be pursued by allow- 
ing it to come near the house, and that she would fine me the price of 
a new set of dishes, and sentence me to go without my dinner. As she 
had the law in her own hands, I had to submit. 

"This is the second time I have been turned down as game warden, 
and I think I shall resign." 

It is quite useless to transplant from the Rocky Moun- 
tains to the Atlantic coast either mountain sheep lambs 
or goat kids only two or. three months old, and expect 
them to survive. To such delicate animals, the shock of 
such a change is too great. They are easily upset. The 
longer they can remain in their home country, the bet- 
ter; and it is very unwise to move them before they are 
six or seven months old. Even then it cannot be man- 
aged successfully save by an attendant to travel with the 
animals, and care for them on the way. 

In October, 1904, Mr. B. T. Van Nostrand, a Brook- 
lyn sportsman on a hunting tour to the Columbian 
Rockies, personally conducted two mountain goat kids 
for us from Fort Steele to New York, and the animals 



CAPTIVE MOUNTAIN GOATS 339 

arrived in perfect condition. A month later, Charlie 
Smith brought to us from his Elk River ranch the two 
goats and the sheep, mentioned above. They, also, ar- 
rived in good health, and the five novelties from the 
Rockies were duly placed on exhibition in the New York 
Zoological Park. 

All went well until in August, 1905, when the goats 
began to have trouble with their digestive organs. One 
by one they were attacked by gastro-enteritis, the incur- 
able curse of all North American hoofed animals on the 
Atlantic coast near tidewater, and in September, 1905, 
all four of the goats went the way of all flesh. 

But we were not wholly bereft. Before I started for 
British Columbia the Zoological Society learned that its 
standing order for more goats was ready to be filled at 
Fort Steele, with five animals. Accordingly I arranged 
that they should be delivered to me at that point, and by 
me be personally conducted to New York. 

On October 1, our three guides and cook, after sev- 
eral days of awful trail-cutting through down timber, 
finally succeeded in getting our pack train out of the 
mountains and into Michel. We worked until midnight, 
packing up and shipping eastward our boxes of museum 
specimens and trophies. On October 2, I went to Fort 
Steele, received the five little goats from James White, 
— who showed real feeling at parting from his pets, — 
and the long run home began. So many persons have 
asked me how we get our rarest wild animals, I am 
tempted to add a few lines regarding the transit of 
Oreamnos. 



340 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

A bear cub seven months old, a wolf, or a puma, can 
endure to travel alone, and take chances of being watered 
and fed by kind-hearted express messengers. In all our 
seven years of animal-gathering by express, we have not 
lost an important live animal in transit through the 
neglect of express messengers. True, our printed ship- 
ping labels loudly appeal for " plenty of air," " Do not 
let them die of thirst! " and " Feed moderately." At St. 
Paul we have a half-way house, where an agent attends 
to the wants of all animals coming to us through his 
express company. 

Bear cubs are tough, and can travel alone ; but moun- 
tain goat babies cannot. They must be cared for three 
times a day, as regularly as it is possible for an able- 
bodied courier to break into the express car where they 
travel. It is a serious undertaking. 

The five little goats were shipped in two light and 
roomy crates, in which they could turn about very freely. 
On the top of each crate was a hinged trap-door, which 
fastened with a padlock. The cracks of the crates were 
so narrow that no goat could thrust a leg through and 
have it broken off. I had four bags of freshly-cut clover, 
a bag of crushed oats and bran, and two watering pans. 
The food supply was furnished by White, and was sup- 
posed to be in accordance with what the goats had pre- 
viously been fed upon. 

They liked the clover, but the bran and oats they 
scorned to touch, save with their feet. Whenever I 
offered a panful of the ground feed they would smell 
of it, taste it once, and then, biffl a stocky black hoof 



CAPTIVE MOUNTAIN GOATS 341 

would strike the pan fairly in the centre, and knock it 
into oblivion. After half a dozen snubs of this kind, I 
ceased to offer objectionable food, and in Fernie made 
haste to buy a bagful of cabbage. The goats accepted 
the amendment, and three times a day thej stowed away: 
cabbage most gratefully. 

Morning, noon and night, those five little white 
hobby-horses were ravenously hungry; and every day at 
noon they were very thirsty. How they would have suf- 
fered had they been dependent, throughout the whole 
of that long trip, on such casual attention as busy and 
overworked baggagemen and express messengers could 
have given them! I think that without the care of an 
attendant they would have died before reaching New 
York; and I felt grateful to myself for having had suffi- 
cient intelligence to provide a convoy for each shipment 
of goats coming to us. 

The green clover began to heat in the bags, and in 
the bottoms of the crates at night. Every morning the 
uneaten grass which served as bedding was very hot, 
and the goats were very uncomfortable. Not a moment 
was lost in throwing overboard that material. The 
importunate billies and nannies stamped impatiently, 
whined with queer little nasal squeaks, and pawed vigor- 
ously at the sides of their crates. It is a good thing for 
an uncomfortable animal to disturb the peace until its 
wants receive attention. Sometimes when the trap-door 
top was opened, an impatient kid would hop out, and 
require to be gathered up and re-introduced to his nar- 
row temporary home. 



342 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 

In travelling on fast trains, I had great difficulty in 
getting into the proper express car and back again. 
Overland express cars have no end doors, and often two 
or three cars were between the smoker and my goats. 
Stops at stations were few and brief, and I had to figure 
carefully in order to make my three trips and get back 
without being left by the blind steps of closed vestibules. 

On the return trip, my time was so fully taken up in 
caring for my small goats that I did practically nothing 
else, and made for Mr. Phillips a highly intermittent 
companion. But the five goats finally reached the Zoo- 
logical Park alive and in riotously good health, and up to 
this date (July i ) not one of them has had a sick day. We 
" point with pride " to them as the first flock of their 
kind ever achieved by a zoological institution. Their 
queer ways and occasional antics are both amusing and 
instructive. 

Regarding human society, and the human touch, they 
are nervous little creatures, and also irritable. At your 
earnest invitation, they will gingerly approach your out- 
stretched hand, and sniff at your finger tips. Then they 
stamp with their front feet, say " Umphl " in a falsetto 
nasal squeak, toss their heads and whirl away. Four out 
of the five refuse to be petted, save by force. The fifth 
is barely tolerant of a friendly and well-known hand. 
But none of them run and wildly bang themselves against 
the fences as do so many deer when at close quarters with 
man. 

It is exceedingly interesting to see them leap against 
their barn, or upon elevations, or climb on the arrange- 



CAPTIVE MOUNTAIN GOATS 343 

merit that has been built for their amusement. But it is 
unwise to hope that in New York these delicate young 
creatures will live long. If any one of the five is alive 
two years hence, we will rejoice, and call it good fortune. 

And so has ended, in our mountain goat corral; in 
the mammal hall of the Carnegie Museum; and in this 
volume, our trip to a wonderland of fine mountains and 
grand game. The animal life of our hunting-ground 
was not appreciably affected by our rifles. Excepting 
our grizzly bears, we shot no females. We made thor- 
ough use of everything we killed, we left behind us no 
wounded animals, and excepting the mule deer, we con- 
verted each animal shot by us into a preserved specimen. 
Four museums now have specimens from our twelve 
head of game. 

May heaven keep my memory of it all as fresh as the 
breezes that blow on Goat Pass, as green as the pines and 
spruces that clothe the lower slopes of those delectable 
mountains. 



FAREWELL 



Hn flfoemoriam 



While reading the proofs of the last of the 
preceding pages, a letter from Charlie Smith 
brought the unwelcome news that Dog Kaiser is 
no more. In July last, while in pursuit of a field- 
mouse, he leaped in front of a mowing-machine 
on his master's ranch, and was killed. 

To every sportsman and guide who knew Kaiser 
in camp and on the trail, his untimely death has 
caused genuine sorrow. There never lived a more 
perfect hunting-dog for big game; for he was a 
dog who made no mistakes. His senses were 
keen, he knew when to pursue, and when to save 
himself by a proper retreat. On the trail of large 
game, he would obey a strange sportsman as 
readily as his own master; and few hunting-dogs 
will do that. He never was permitted to range 
free, or to chase any hoofed game save when it 
was to be photographed. 

In breed, Kaiser was part collie, and partly 
plain hunting-dog. As a hunter of intelligence, 
obedience, skill and courage, he contributed much 
toward the success of a number of sportsmen and 
naturalists, and in the annals of big-game hunt- 
ing and photography, he fairly earned a place. 



344 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Alaska, mountain goat in, 107 
Andrews, A. L., 107 
Anemone, lace-leaved, 59 
Animal life on the summits, 293 
Anorthura hiemalis pacificus, 318 
"Antelope," goat, 95 
Ants eaten by grizzlies, 1 74 
Arctomys pruinosus, 303 
Aspen, or quaking-asp, 138 
Autopsy of grizzly bear, 168 
Avalanche Creek, JJ, 91, 137, 236, 

281, 321, 329 
Avalanche Valley, 182 
Avalanches, see Slides 
Avens, mountain, 65 

Bald Mountain, 46, 55, 65 
Balsam, 138 

Basin at Phillips Peak, 141 
Bear, black, 16, 207, 304 

that got away, 210 

grizzly, see Grizzly Bear 
Bear-hunting in spring, 287 
Bear-Paw Mountains, 4 
Beaver trapped, 205 
Berries of the mountains, 45, 157 
Big-Horn Sheep, see Sheep 
Binoculars, 54 
Bird Mountain, 56, 65 
Black bear, 16, 159, 207, 210, 304 
Black mountain sheep, 253, 255 
Bluebirds, 23 
Bovidas, family, 97 
Breeding habits of grizzly, 173 
Breeze, W. L., 107 
Brewster, James, 125 
British Columbia, 106 

big game, 8 

game laws, 7 



British Columbia, mountains of, 36 
Brooks, Alfred H., 107 
Buffalo plains, 3 
Bull River, 53, 155 
Bungers, 244, 264 

Cache of grizzly bear, 169 
Callospermophilus lateralis cineres- 

cens, 300 
Camp, Goat Pass, 47 

Hornaday, 91, 199 

Lake Josephine, 324 

Necessity, 238, 247 

Sulphur Spring, 22 
Camp-fire tales, 212, 221 
Canadian Pacific Railway, 7, 10 
Canis latrans, 314 
Capra, 96, 97 
Caprinae, subfamily, 97 
Carnegie Museum, specimens for, 2, 

86, 249 
Chamaenerion angustifolium, 51 
Chamois, 97 

Chipmunk, bufF-bellied, 310 
Citellus columbianus, 149, 175 

franklini, 14 
ClifF-climbing by goats, 57 
Climbing, costume for, 53, 134, 140 

in the mountains, 39, 46, 78, 132 
Crow, Clark's, 144 
Crow's Nest Pass Coal Company, 11 
Crahan, Thomas, 12 
Color values in the mountains, 50 
Comparison of 

courage, in goat and grizzly, 113 

flesh of goat, sheep and deer, 203 

form, in goat and sheep, 262 

intelligence, in goat and sheep, 

H5 



347 



348 



INDEX 



Comparison of nerve, in goat, sheep 
and deer, 115, 118 
size, of goat, sheep and deer, 261 
vision, in goat and sheep, 118 

Continental Divide, 67, 141 

Cooking in camp, 200 

Costume for climbing, 53, 134, 140 

Coyotes, 315 

Currants, blacky 157 

Cyclorama Ridge, 325 

Danger from 

falling trees, 161, 329 

log-running, 330 

snow-slides, 283, 287 
Deer, Columbian black-tailed, 315 

mule, 203, 315 

white-tailed, 315 
Dendragapus obscurus, 316 
Descent of mountains, 90, 134, 327 
"Down" timber, 6, 42, 322, 328, 

329 
Dryas octopetala, 66, 83 
Drying meat, 201 
"Duchess," grizzly bear, 222 
Duck, harlequin, 317 
"Duke of Wellington," grizzly bear, 

225 
Dump, the, 143 
Dunham, M. P., 103 
Dyche, Prof. L. L., 176 

Eagle, golden, 

preying upon goats, 120 

preying upon sheep, 263 

seen on summits, 319 
Elderberries, 157 
Elevations in Fernie District, 68 
Elk, 19 

seen at Phillips Peak, 142 

tracks at Lake Josephine, 323 
Elk River, 11 
Elk Valley, 34, 68 
Elliot, D. G., 107 
Erethizon epixanthus, 271, 301 
Eutamias luteiventris, 300 



Falco columbarius, 23 

Fannin's mountain sheep, 253, 254, 

256 
False Notch, 130, 291 
Felis concolor, 304 
Fenwick, Arthur B., 121 
Fernie, 7, 10 

mountain elevations at, 68 

Game Protective Association, 7, 9 
Fighting powers of goat, 120, 121, 123 
Fireweed, 51 

Fishing in Fording River, 28 
Flathead River, 6 
Food of 

Franklin grouse, 22 

grizzly bear, 160, 173, 174, 176 

marten, 313 

mountain goat, 105, 108 

mountain sheep, 261 

pika, 297 

wolverine, 308 
Fool-Hen, 20, 153, 316 
Fording River, 13 

fishing in, 28 
Frank, catastrophe at, 287 
Franklin ground-squirrel, 14 
Franklin grouse, 20, 153, 316 

Game laws of British Columbia, 7 

Gateway station, 7 

Goat Creek, 39, 44, 50 

Goat-licks, 238 

Goat Pass, 46, 49, 289 

Goat, the mountain, 

accidents to, 109, 125 

affection of, 119 

appearance of, 93, 95, 99 

at Goat Pass camp, 48, 52 

beard of, 102 

classification of, 95, 97 

climbing by kid, 241 

climbing by the, 135 

climbing powers of, 93, 102, 125 

courage of, 112, 118, 119, 120 

dew-claws of, 101 

dogs killed by, 121, 122 

eaten by grizzly, 160 



INDEX 



349 



Goat, enemies of, 112 

eyes of, 100 

fearlessness of, 112, 114, 136 

fighting powers of, 120, 121, 123 

flesh of, 108, 203 

food of, 105, 108 

gait of, in walking, 94 

geographic range of, 106 

glands of, 100 

grizzly frightens, 124 

hoofs of, 101 

horns of, 99 

how to hunt, ill 

killed in snow-slide, 109 

lame m. g. seen, 48 

living grounds of, 102 

measurements of, 63, 89 

m. g. not an "antelope," 95 

pelage of, 98 

philosophic mind of, 115 

reasoning powers of, 115, 117 

running of, 262 

rutting season of, 109 

self-trapping of, 125 

size of, 261 

stupidity alleged of, ill, 118 

swimming powers of, 111 

visual powers of, 113 

wandering habits of, 103 

weight of, 69, 90 

winter habits of, 108 
Goats, mountain, 

appearance of, 59, 85 

at bay, 71 

at rest, 55, 82, 109 

clifF-climbing by, 57 

first sight of, 46 

hunting, 56, 77-90 

leaping down by, 72 

Mr. Phillips photographs, 13, 48, 

74 
on Phillips Peak, 81 
photographed by Prof. Osborn, 13 
run through camp, 48 
thirteen adult male, 82 
Goats, captive mountain, 

at Boston and Philadelphia, 333 



Goats, Deer Lodge specimen, 333 
food for, 337, 340 
for N. Y. Zoological Park, 334, 336, 

339 

taken to London, 324 

traits of, 342 
Gopher, 150, 299 
Gorals, 97 

Grant, Madison, 106, 120, 252 
Grass eaten by grizzlies, 173 
Great Northern Railway, 2, 4, 5, 6, 10 
Green timber, 40 
Grinnell, George Bird, 104 
Ground-squirrel, 

ashy-mantled, 300 

Columbia River, 149 

Franklin, 14 
Grouse, blue, 316 

dusky, 316 

Franklin, 20, 153, 316 

sooty, 316 
Grizzly bear, 

author opposes trapping, 180 

baits avoided by, 177, 225 

berries eaten by, 174 

breeding habits of, 173 

cubs of the, 173 

cache made by, 169 

calendar of the, 173 

cannibalism in the, 174, 177 

carrion eaten by, 177 

change in temper of, 113 

claws of the, 179 

death of a, 165 

goat eaten by, 160 

hunting the, 162 

killed by Mr. Phillips, 222, 225, 276 

killed by goat, 122 

modern rifles feared by, 176 

pelage of, 174 

preying upon ground-squirrels, 149 

rubbing trees of, 159 

scarcity of the, 172, 179 

several g. b. together, 269 

shedding of coat by, 173 

"silver-tip" and, 179 

solitary habits of, 176 



35° 



INDEX 



Grizzly, species of, 178 

spring food of, 173 

summer food of, 173, 174, 176 

tooth-marks of, 159 

weight of the, 177 
Gunnison, R. A., 107 

Hains, A. G., 107 
"Hare," little chief, 149, 295 
Harlequin duck, 317 
Hawks, 319 
Hedysarum, 175, 261 
Herchmer, H. W., 7, 106 
Hill of slide-rock, 281 
Harmer's ranch, 16 
Hornaday, camp, 91. 182, 199 
Hornaday Mountain, 18 
Horns of big-horn sheep, 251, 252, 259 
Horror of the rocks, 198, 228 
Horses in the mountains, 37, 42 
Huckleberries, 156, 157, 175, 326 
Huddleston, G. E., 15, 100, 328 
Huffman, L. A., 201 
Hunting grizzly bears, 162, 222, 225, 
276 
mountain goats, 46, 77 

Ibexes, 97 
Indian trails, 43, 161 
Indians, Stoney, great game-killers, 
264 

Jack pine, 16, 328 
Jay, Canada, 144, 319 
Jones, C. J., 112 
Josephine Falls, 13, 28 

Lake, 94, 323 
Jumbo, grizzly bear, death of, 207 
Juniper, trailing, 51, 52 
Juniperus prostrata, 52 

Kaiser, 13, 14, 47, 162, 300 

assists in photographing goats, 187 
death of, 344 

Kaiser Lake, 162 

Keller, E. F., 167 

Kermode, Francis, 107 



Kidder, James H., 107, 116 
Kootenay River, 6 

Lake Josephine, 94, 323 

Monro, 323 
Larch, 138 

Laws, game, of British Columbia, 7, 8 
Leonard, Thomas D., 116 
Lewis and Clark Club, 1 
Lewis and Clark Forest Reserve, 6 
Lewis, Jack, 228 
Limestone, carboniferous, 66 
Log-running, over down timber, 322, 

33° 
Lynx, Canada, 304 

MacDougal, Dr. D. T., 105 
Magpie, 319 
Markhors, 97 
Marmot, hoary, 303 
Marston, Charles, 263 
Marten, pine, 312 

climbing powers of, 313 

ferocious temper of, 314 

trap for, 19 

trapped, 205, 312 

value of, 312 
Matches that wouldn't light, 233 
McEvoy, James, geologist, 68 
McKenzie, W. C. % 107 
McKern, James, 106, 107 
McLean, W. J., 107 
Meat, process for drying, 201 
Michel, British Columbia, 11 
Michel Hotel, 12 
Montana, 3 

Mountain goat, see Goat, and Goats 
Mountain, Hornaday, 18 

Osborn, 13 

Phillips, 238 

Roth, 91, 159, 237 

Sheep, 18, 229 
Mountain sheep, big-horn, see Sheep 
Mountain-sides, 36, 51, 65, 138, 143, 

152 
Mountain travel, 35 
Monro, George N., 21, 323 



INDEX 



3S* 



Moose, 315 

Moose-bird, 319 

Mule deer, decrease of, 315 

size of, 261 
Mushrooms as squirrel food, 302 
Mustela americana, 312 

Nature, getting next to, 145 
Necessity, camp, 238, 247 
Nelson's mountain sheep, 253 
Neotomas, 14 

Neotoma cinerea drummondi, 302 
Norboe, John R., 249 

bear story told by, 219 

peril of, 237 

sketch of, 204 
Norboe, R. M. ("Mack"), 270, 275 

helps photograph goats, 184 

bear story told by, 207, 225 

goats captured by, 336 

in bear hunt, 270 

sketch of, 204 
North Dakota, 3 
Northern Pacific Railway, 4 
Nuchal hump on sheep, 257 
Nucifraga columbiana, 319 
Nutcracker, Clark's, 319, 320 

OCHOTONA PRINCEPS, 295 

Opera-glass for use in mountains, 54 
Oreamnos montanus, 63 
Osborn, Professor Henry Fairfield, 12, 
120 

goats photographed by, 119 
Osborn, Mrs. H. F., 13 

Miss Josephine, 28 
Osborn Mountain, 13 
Outlaw in camp, story of, 213 
Ouzel, water, 318 
Ovis canadensis, see Sheep, big-horn 

dalli, 253, 254 

fannini, 253, 256 

nelsoni, 253 

stonei, 254 

Pack-rat, 14, 302 
Pack-train, management of, 37 



Pasque flower, 297 
Pastime of mountain sheep, 144 
Peaks, destruction of, 291 
Perisoreus canadensis, 319 
Phillips, John M., 

bear stories told by, 210, 222 

climbing kid seen by, 241 

first goats photographed by, 48 

frightened goats seen by, 124 

goat shot by, 60 

grizzlies shot by, 224, 227, 275 

large goat photographed by, 184-197 

mountain sheep shot by, 243 
Phillips Peak, 65, 67, 69 
Phillipps-Wolley, Give, 99, 106 
Photographing author's grizzly, 166 

mountain goats, 48, 71, 181 

mountain sheep, 74 

ptarmigans, 69 
Pica pica hudsonica, 319 
Picea Engelmanni, 40 
Pigeon-hawk, 23 
Pika, 148, 295 
Pike, Warburton, 106 
Pine, jack, 16, 328 

lodge-pole, 16 

tree scarred by ram, 144 
Pinus diviricata, 16 
Pirie, Samuel O, 106 
Porcupine, 271, 301 
Proctor, A. P., 106 
Ptarmigan, willow, 69, 154 
Pulsatilla occidentalis, 59, 297 
Puma, kills a big-horn, 263 

northern limit of, 304 

Rabbit, snow-shoe, 303 
Radclyffe, Capt. C. E., 259, 260 
Raspberries, 44 
Record head, definition of, 251 

heads of big-horn, 252 
Rexford, 6 

Rheumatism, among mountaineers, 
288 

sulphur spring for, 26 
Rocky Mountains, 5, 6 
Rolling on mountain slopes, 79, 90, 132 



35 2 



INDEX 



Roth, J. E., 252, 337 
Roth Mountain, 91, 159, 237 
Routt Co., Colo., bears in, 207 
Rubbing-trees of bears, 159 
Rule for sheep horns, 253 
Rupicaprinae, subfamily, 97 
Rungius, Carl, 116 

Sage-brush, 4 

Salmo clarkii, 29 

Salvelinus parkei, 30 

Savage, Tom, 215 

Saxifrage, 83 

Sciurus hudsonius richardsoni, 301 

Senicio triangularis, 297 

Serows, 97 

Service-berry, 157, 174 

Sheep, big-horn, 

agility of, 262 

attempt to capture, 229 

compared with goat, 262 

culminating point of, 251 

distribution of, 251, 254 

enemies of, 263 

fighting methods of, 258, 259 

flesh of, 203 

food of, 261 

habitat of, 236 

hoof of, 262 

horns of, 251, 252, 259, 263 

in deep snow, 231 

measurements of, 249 

mental traits of, 116, 262 

new law needed for, 8 

nuchal hump on, 257 

observed, 73, 146 

panic of, 119 

photographing, 74 

scarcity of, 263 

seen near goats, 76 

size of, 249, 261 

weight of, 249 
Sheep, mountain, 

black, 254 

Dall's, 253, 254 

Fannin's, 107, 116 

Nelson's, 253 



Sheep, white, 253, 254 

Sheldon, Charles, 107, 116, 235, 254, 

256 
Shields, George O., 106, 251 

great goat-lick found by, 239 

injured goat seen by, no 
Shields' Magazine, 260, 337 
Silver-tip, see Grizzly Bear 
Sioux Indians, 4 
Sioux Reservation, 4 
Slide-rock, 43 

character of, 290 

greatest bed of, 289 

hill of, 281 

how dispersed, 290 

how made, 290 

in Waterfall Notch, 148 
Slides, snow, 280, 287 

dangers of, 283 

dry, 285 

frequency of, 289 

timber, 282 

wet, 284 
Smith, Charles L., 39 

"appreciation" of, 129 

attempt to capture sheep by, 229 

bear signs found by, 158 

capture of goats by, 335, 336 

capture of sheep by, 336 

capture of wolverine by, 310 

contribution on snow-slides by, 283 

contribution on wolverine by, 306, 

309 

eagle and goats seen by, 120 

grizzly found by, 163 

letter from, 337 

narrow escape of, 230 

observations of, on coyote, 314 

story of outlaw by, 213 
Snow combs, 288 
Snow-slides, see Slides 
Soues, F., 106 

Spruce, Canadian white, 40, 51, 79 
Squaw-root, 297 
Squirrel, Oregon pine, 301 
Stanfield, E. A., goats photographed 
by, 184 



INDEX 



3 S3 



Stephenson, I. N., 107 
Stephenson, W., 106, 109 
Stoney Indians, 264 
Sulphur Spring, 23, 24 
Summits, features of the, 66, 140 
Sun gardens, 288 
Sweet-Grass Hills, 5 
Swimming by goats, ill 

Tahrs, 97 

Takin, 97 

Taylor, E. J., 252 

Temperature, changes of, in climbing, 

139, 161 
Thimbleberry, 157 
Timber, "down," 6, 42, 322, 328, 329 

green, 40 
Timber-line, 69, 153 
Trail-cutting, 328 

Trails in the mountains, 41, 43, 161 
Transportation of live goats, 340 
Trap for marten, 19 

wolverine, 309, 310 
Trappers, modern, 203-205 
Travel in the mountains, 35 
Travellers who do not see, 127 
Trout, 29 
Turs, 97 

Tyrrell, J. B., 107 
Tyrrell, J. W., 306 

United States, goat in, 106 
United States boundary, 7, 67 

Valleys in Columbian Rockies, 36 
Van Nostrand, Benjamin T., 106, 338 
fighting goats seen by, 122 

Waterfall Notch, 147 
Wellman, F. B., 117, 119, 260 



Wheat lands of the Northwest, 2 

Whiskey jack, 319 

Whistler, 303 

White, James, 122, 339 

White mountain sheep, 253, 254, 255 

Wild-Cat Charlie's ranch, 38 

Williams, J., 107 

Willow-herb, 51 

Willow, yellow, 138 

Wilson Creek, 326 

Windbreaks on summits, 55, 154 

Wolverine, 305, 306 

breeding of, 308 

captured alive, 310 

climbing powers of, 306 

destructiveness of, 307, 308 

not gluttinous, 308 

outwitted by trapper, 309 

range of individual, 306 
Wolverines at goat remains, 170 

trapped, 205 
Wolves, 314 
Worden, James, 107 
Wren, winter, 318 
Wright, W. H., 106, 176, 179, 239, 283 

on habits of goat, 1 1 1 

photographs injured goat, no 

Yukon Territory, mountain goat 

IN, IO7 

Zoological Park, New York, 311 
grizzly cubs born in, 173 
mountain goats in, 339, 342 

Zoological Society, New York, 
goats captured for, 334, 336, 339 
wolverine captured for, 310 

Zoological Society, of Philadelphia, 

333 
of London, 324 



BOOKS BY W. T. HORNADAY 

PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

The American 
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Illustrated by 220 original drawings by Beard, Rungius, and Sawyer, 

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